Love Extra
by frostygossamer
Summary: Dean has settled down with Sam in Palo Alto. But how will a macho blue-collar guy fit in with artsy academic folks in sunny California? A sequel to 'Love Etc.' and 'Love Express'. AU, unrelated Sam/Dean. (Mildly M)
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Dean has settled down with Sam in Palo Alto. But how will a macho blue-collar guy fit in with artsy academic folks in sunny California? A sequel to 'Love Etc.' and 'Love Express'. AU, unrelated Sam/Dean. (Mildly M)

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A/N: At last the third and final part of the trilogy. If you haven't read 'Love Etc.' and 'Love Express' it won't kill you to read this but it IS a sequel. Sorry it's taken so long to get this posted. Real life has been getting in the way, and I've had my bathroom remodelled so I've been mega-busy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, its fandom, its characters or anything connected to them. I do not make money or profit in any way from this story.

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Love Extra (Chapter 1) by frostygossamer

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Sam and Dean had finally moved into their first home together in a little gated community in Palo Alto. The smart new house had been picked out for them by Sam's boss and ex, Dave Mann, but Dean couldn't really complain. It was the nicest place he had ever lived in, and he had lived in some nasty rat holes when his dad, John, was still alive.

This afternoon was the first time they had left the house since their arrival. Seriously, it took time and stamina to properly sexually christen an entire house. Eventually hunger had driven them outside, when the last of the groceries Mann had thoughtfully had Residents' Services provide had been eaten. So Dean and Sam had grudgingly put on clothes to go restock. As Dean had previously observed, rampant sex gives a guy an appetite.

They had just gotten back from the store, where they had picked up a tightly packed trunkful of groceries. Sam had gone indoors with the frozen goods, while Dean struggled to load himself up with as many paper sacks as he could possibly carry in one trip. Right then a car pulled up at the house next door and a tall, angular, 40-something woman stepped out. She glanced across at Dean, as she fumbled in her purse for her door key.

"Hi," said Dean, indulging her with a sunny smile over the top of the SUV.

Dean was way too nice of a guy to ignore any woman, even a sour-faced one. The sharp-featured female fixed him with a beady eye.

"Deliveries are supposed to come through the back," she observed, dryly.

It took Dean a second to process what she was getting at.

"Hey, I'm not... You think I'm a..." he stuttered, slightly surprised, slightly offended.

Evidently she had mistaken him for some delivery boy. Before Dean could summon up an intelligent rebuttal, Sam came back out the house. He sized up the situation and strode over, hand extended, to greet their new neighbour.

"Hi," he said. "We've just moved in. Guess we're neighbours? The name's Winchester, Sam Winchester."

"Oh," responded the woman, suddenly adopting a smarmy manner as she shook his hand. "Glad to meet you. My name is Sharp, Dr. Sharp. Political Ethnoclimatology."

"Socioeconometric Cybertechnology," countered Sam, as they shook hands. "And, uh, this is my partner," he added, indicating Dean, behind him, with an inclusive wave of his free hand.

Sharp gave Dean an insincere smile. "Oops," she said. "So sorry. Mr. uh?"

"Dean," replied Dean tersely, shaking his head and trudging indoors with his shopping, leaving the two academics to get acquainted.

~X~

A few minutes later, Sam joined Dean in the kitchen, where the disgruntled guy had started in on a box of cookies.

"Freakin' stuck-up bitch," grumbled Dean, through a mouthful of cookie crumbs.

"Seemed perfectly nice to me," commented Sam, disingenuously. "Little starchy maybe. Dude, you're way too sensitive."

"Sensitive?" growled Dean. "Damn woman talked down to me like I was the help."

"Honest mistake?" suggested Sam, not expecting Dean to agree.

"I look like a delivery guy?" Dean demanded.

Sam eyed him up carefully. "Sexy porno delivery guy maybe?" he chuckled, closing up beside him.

Dean snarled. "Being serious here, man," he snapped, trying to suppress the urge to laugh at Sam's remark.

Sam sighed. "Was afraid of that," he commented, leaning on the counter beside Dean. "Somehow I don't reckon we'll be sharing any backyard barbecues with that woman."

Dean smiled wryly. "One bitchy witch," he agreed. "Maybe we should look out for fetishes."

Sam wriggled his eyebrows. "I'm game if you are," he smirked.

They had made a joke of it, but later that night, as Dean lay curled up beside a gently snoring Sam, he thought back to the incident and sighed. Sam never made him feel out of place, but did Dean really belong in this highfaluting haven populated by college professors and academics?

Dean was a car mechanic, though a damn good one. He worked with his hands. Was he ever going to fit in? Not if they were all as sniffy as the neighbourhood ice-queen, he sure wasn't. His pride was worth more than that.

Sam shifted in his sleep and pulled Dean tighter into his arms.

"And then again," Dean thought, snuggling against Sam's broad chest. "This guy's so worth it, right?"

~X~

Sam had given Dean a week before he brought up the subject of money.

They were sitting at the breakfast bar in their nicely appointed kitchen. Sam was crunching a bowl of handmade granola sourced from a little health food place he had found, with a handful of ripe strawberries and topped with organic goat yoghurt. Yummy AND wholesome.

Dean was chowing down on a huge sausage, grilled not fried at Sam's insistence, sandwiched between two thick slices of artisan bread, a compromise on Dean's part. Although he knew Sam only wanted his guy to live a long and healthy life, Dean felt he had to grumble a little, on principle.

Sam opened the conversation casually.

"Kinda think we gotta start off the household budget on a level playing field," he suggested.

"Mmm," Dean responded absently, his mouth full of sausage.

"Sooo," Sam prevaricated, deliberately not meeting Dean's eyes. "Gonna settle your dad's debts so we can move on from there. And then I'll set up a joint-access checking account, obviously."

Sam was a wealthy man, as well as his position at the University, he was the owner of a very successful tech company, WinchesterTech. Unlike Dean, money was no problem for Sam.

Dean almost choked on his sandwich.

"Damn it, Sam," he snapped. "Not gonna let you pay off my debts. Reckon I'm some freakin gold-digger?"

Sam sighed. "Dean," he began in a calming tone. "They're not YOUR debts. Those loans you took out to pay for John's final hospital bills. It wasn't your fault he had no insurance. Baby, your dad wouldn't've wanted them hanging around your neck like some albatross."

Dean gave an exasperated gasp. "Not even gonna talk about this," he declared, abandoning his sandwich and standing up.

He went to the coffee-maker and poured himself a refill of ink-black java, his initial indignation subsiding some as he sipped the hot beverage.

"It's just..." he began awkwardly. "It's just Dad brought me up to make my own way, is all. He was a damn proud guy. He taught me to be proud too."

Sam stood up and walked over to stand beside him. He put his hand around the back of Dean's neck and rubbed it soothingly.

"Baby," he said. "Don't wanna dis you or your dad. But there's no reason to not let me do this. We're a couple now. Your debts are mine and mine are yours. That's how it's meant to work."

Dean nodded slowly. "I guess," he allowed.

Sam smiled and, giving his boyfriend a quick peck on his sausage-greasy lips, he returned to his breakfast.

"Dude, sit down," he said. "Finish your freakin' monster wiener before it gets cold."

Dean rejoined him at the table, grunting gruffly as he finished his meal.

"And I AM gonna buy you a car," Sam added.

~X~

The car Sam had ordered in no way matched up to Dean's standards. It stood where the garage guy had left it, out front of their new house, while Sam and Dean stood there staring at it, arms folded.

Dean shook his head. "This is a piece of crap," He announced.

"It's black," Sam commented, his knowledge of automobile specs being somewhat lacking.

"Then it's a BLACK piece of crap," Dean corrected himself. "And I wouldn't be seen dead in that mother."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, it's just a runabout," he explained. "To get you around town."

He realized now that choosing a car for a motorhead was never going to turn out well.

"It's a goddamn chick's car," Dean insisted bitterly. "Freakin' girlfriend's wheels."

And Sam had somehow managed to insult Dean's masculinity again. Not good.

"Uh-oh. Some screw-up, huh?" thought Sam, then aloud, "Sorry," he apologized. "Messed up, I guess."

"In spades," Dean growled, stomping indoors.

~X~

Dean took the car back to the garage where Sam had ordered it. He came back that afternoon with a clunker on the back of a flatbed truck. Sam came out of the house to stare at the heap in disbelief.

"The hell is that?" he demanded. "Looks like a wreck."

Dean patted a dented fender, grinning happily. "She's a classic," he announced.

"Yeah, it's a CLASSIC heap of scrap metal," Sam commented.

Dean pouted. "SHE is a Chevy," he claimed. "To be exact, a 1967 Chevy Impala."

"Was," Sam opined.

Dean sighed like he was talking to an idiot.

"A Chevy Impala," he repeated. "Same make and model as Dad's. Gonna rebuild her."

"Ah," Sam responded, getting it.

Dean had mentioned THAT car often. It was the car Dean and his dad, John, had travelled the States in, back when John was an itinerant mechanic always on the scrounge for work, back when John was Dean's world and John's ride was home.

"But I'll be freakin' impressed if you can even get the damn thing running," Sam commented.

Dean grinned. A Challenge. Dean loved a challenge.

"Then be prepared to have your socks blown right the hell off," he chuckled.

Sam could see what this was about. Of course he could. We're always looking to recapture our childhoods, and obviously Dean's dad's favourite car meant a lot to him. John had loved that car but he had had to sell it when he got sick, much to Dean's dismay. So, sure, Dean would want to replace it. Especially when he had so little to remind him of John. Nothing but a little box of photos and family documents, and a few old cassette tapes.

"OK," said Sam, turning and going back inside. "Whatever you say."

He decided to let it go. If Dean wanted to waste his time working on an old heap, then that was his business. At least it would keep him busy for a while. Give him something to do while Sam was in school teaching class.

Dean was full of excitement as they sat eating dinner that night.

"She'll be great. You wait and see," he chortled.

"My lover, the genius auto-mechanic," Sam snarked.

"Hey," Dean protested. "Might be a kept man right now, but I can at least provide my own transport."

Sam nodded. "OK, hotshot," he said. "I'll believe that when I see it."

TBC

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A/N: So, everything hunky-dory chez Winchester. So far... More soon.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm hoping to keep this updated quickly but, things being hectic around here, I may miss the odd day or two. In this chapter Sam's ex, Dave Mann, heretofore only an OMC, makes his first live appearance and finally gets a cast 'face' of his own - Mitch Pileggi.

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Love Extra (Chapter 2) by frostygossamer

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The following day was Saturday and Sam was relaxing in his study, listening to music on headphones while Dean walloped his old wreck into some kind of shape by planishing the panels with a hammer in their garage.

Sam needed the headphones because the noise Dean was making wasn't exactly, well, neighbourly. Dean would probably have given snobby Dr. Sharp more consideration if he hadn't still been a little pissed off by her attitude. Laying into it with relish, he was soon hot, sweaty and covered in rust and grime.

Shortly before noon, Dean's concentration was interrupted by the arrival of a Honda motorbike bearing one David Mann, in leathers. When Dean came wandering out of the garage, the visitor took off his helmet and attached it to the back of his bike. Not having seen this guy before, Dean wiped his sweaty face with the hem of his faded black T-shirt and waited for the newcomer to introduce himself.

Mann stepped off his bike and toed the kickstand into place before pulling off his gloves.

"Mr. Winchester in?" he asked curtly.

Dean looked the older man up and down with suspicion.

"Sure," he answered. "In his office."

Without further word, Mann walked in the open door and made his way straight to the office, like he had been there before. Dean shrugged and returned to the garage to finish up.

Inside the house, Sam hadn't heard his visitor enter, and he started when Mann walked into his field of view. He fumbled to turn off his sound system, clumsily pulling off his headphones.

"D-Dave," he stuttered. "Hell, you got me by surprise."

Mann chuckled. "Thought I'd come on over and make sure you were settled in OK," he explained, ambling over to perch on Sam's desk. "The accommodation to your liking?"

He took in the whole house with a wave of his hand. Sam nodded, trying not to appear too shaken by his ex's sudden arrival.

"Yeah sure, Dave. The place is great. It's precisely what we wanted," he answered.

"We?" Mann faked surprise, like he had forgotten Sam had spoken of his successor on the phone.

"WE," repeated Sam, with emphasis. "Dean and me. Told you about Dean. My new partner?"

"Ah," responded Mann, like he had only just remembered. "Yes, I think you DID mention someone. Sure."

Sam stood up and glanced around wildly, not sure how he should handle Mann's first visit to the home of his replacement in Sam's affections.

"Uh, would you like an, uh, a drink, Dave?" he asked, plucking something out of the air.

"No, no. I'm good, Sam," Mann replied. "Just popped by for a couple minutes. Won't be staying."

"Dave, I-" Sam began, but was cut off.

"Gonna introduce us?" asked Dean from the doorway.

He had washed up quickly and looked more recognizably human in a clean, white T-shirt.

Sam grinned in relief. "Sure. Dave, this is Dean. Dean, this is Dave Mann, my former... uh, my ex. He dropped by to see how we're settling in. You and me."

Sam's past and future loves studied each other appraisingly for a few seconds, before Mann reached out his mitt for a handshake. Dean took his hand reluctantly and have it a cursory shake.

"Pleased to finally meet you," Dean said, with obvious insincerity.

Dean had heard a little about this guy from Sam, and what he had heard didn't endear him to Dean. Mann had behaved like a horse's ass to Dean's lover, ignoring Sam when he had needed his support with setting up WinchesterTech in favour of single-mindedly pursuing his own career as a best-selling writer. The guy had walked out of Sam's life to jet around Europe, promoting his recent blockbuster.

So, now that the guy's book deal had fallen through and he had returned to his old job at Stanford, he expected to be all friends again? Dean thought not. Mann had hurt Sam, and Dean was fiercely protective of those he cared about.

"Same here," replied Mann, also guardedly.

Mann was a lot older than Dean had expected. Sure, Dean knew that Sam had become involved with him when they had been student and professor, but he somehow hadn't pictured the man before him. He was as tall as Dean, bald, built and with a tanned and leathery face like an old boxing glove. Dean couldn't deny that the man had that certain characterful visage that artists admire, even if he wasn't Dean's type, and he exuded manly self-assurance from every pore, like a boss.

For his part, Mann took in Dean with one glance: pretty-boy in a tight T-shirt, end of.

Sam stepped in to break up the staring competition.

"Look," he said. "Maybe we could eat? Hmm? It's almost quarter of one."

Mann smiled at Sam, a gently paternal smile that lit up his eyes warmly.

"Thanks, Sam," he said. "Really wish I could but I can't stay this time. I'm expected someplace."

"Good," commented Dean under his breath, as he stepped to one side and pointedly glanced toward the door.

Mann hesitated. "I hope you can get over to my place Monday, Sam?" he said. "I'm throwing a little drinks party to welcome the newest arrival to the Faculty, our British guest professor, Fergus Crowley. You'll have seen the guy on the idiot box, I'm sure. He's never off the thing."

Sam shifted uncertainly. "Well, I dunno..." he said, trying to ignore Dean's negative gestures behind Mann's back.

"He's a fascinating guy, apparently," Mann went on. "Eight O'clock. I hope you can come. You and your new partner, that is, of course," he added as an afterthought.

Dean humphed sullenly when Sam nodded. "Maybe," Sam allowed. "We'll have to see."

"OK," Mann agreed, turning to go. "See you then. I'll look forward to it."

Dean very efficiently ushered the guy out of the house and then returned briskly to the study.

"That guy is a douche," he pronounced as soon as he walked back in. "Walks in here like he owns the place. Expects you to just come when he calls."

Sam looked up from his seat back at his desk.

"He wanted to get a look at you, I guess," he suggested. "The douchiness is just how he is," he chuckled. "But he's one helluvan educator, Dean. He knows his stuff."

"Yeah, and I guess he knows a little too much about you, Sammy," Dean snarled. "He's gotten you all confuzzled."

Sam sighed. "It's just... Dean, it's complicated. When I met him I was kinda lost. He helped me find myself. And now..."

"And now you got me," Dean interrupted. "Hey, what's this?"

He had gotten his eye on a book laying on the table. It hadn't been there earlier.

"'Whatever Gets You Through The Night' by Samuel Campbell. The freak did THIS come from?"

Sam snorted and hurried around his desk to grab the volume from him, but Dean held it out of his reach.

"It's that damn book of Dave's. Hate that freakin' thing," Sam growled.

Dean glanced inside the front cover. "Hey, he's autographed it, 'To my Sam, without whose encouragement I'd never have finished this book'. Like I said, douche."

Sam grabbed the book out of his hands and tossed it in the trash basket.

"Hate that damn book," he reiterated, and stomped out of the room into the kitchen to make dinner.

Dean stopped to fish the book out of the trash, slipping it on a shelf, before following him in the kitchen.

~X~

Dean was curious about that book. Mann had used Sam's first and middle names as his pen name. That had to mean something. It should have meant a lot. He was sitting in bed flicking through the thing while Sam was in the shower. Aside from the sociotechnical content, which went right over Dean's head, the work was largely a mishmash of Mann's personal pseudophilosophy.

"Total BS," Dean thought.

When he heard Sam approaching, he hastily stuffed the book under his pillow.

Sam climbed into bed and lay back against the pillows with a deep sigh.

"I'm gonna hafta go to that thing," he said.

"What thing?" asked Dean.

"The drinks thing with Fergus Crowley," Sam answered. "Can't be the only Faculty member UA."

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. "Guess I'm gonna hafta come with," he grumbled.

"No, Dean. It's cool. You don't gotta come if you don't wanna," insisted Sam. "I'm good."

Dean smiled and pulled Sam onto his chest, kissing the top of his head.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine," he said. "Not gonna leave you hanging, Sammy. AND I gotta show this Dave guy you're MINE now, not his."

Sam chuckled into his lover's shoulder. "Possessive much?" he murmured.

~X~

So, come Monday, they are one their way to Mann's place in the SUV. Smart casual. Neither of them was really in the mood to socialize. Sam had had a tough day in school and was suffering brain fatigue. Dean had spent all day tinkering with his wreck. His fatigue was of the regular physical variety.

Sam glanced across at Dean in the passenger seat and noticed he kept chewing on a fingernail.

"Cut that out, Dean," he scolded. "What are you? Five?"

"Snagged it working on the car, Mom," Dean complained, sullenly.

"Well, let it be," grumbled Sam. "You'll only make it worse chomping on it."

Dean took the finger out of his mouth and stared out the windshield a moment.

"Ya know, it would be easier if I could work on her down at the repair shop," he commented, casually. "They, uh, offered me a couple days a week. Thinking about taking them up on it."

Sam sighed. "You don't need to work, Dean. I'm already paying the bills."

Dean shook his head and bit his lip pensively.

"Don't enjoy being a kept man, Sam," he said. "I'm an independent kinda guy."

Sam snorted. "Dean. It's not like that. It's just, you know, like communal property."

They were silent for a couple minutes until they pulled into Mann's street.

"OK," Sam said. "Guess there's no point in me bitching about it. You do what you wanna."

"That's exactly what I was gonna do," replied Dean, with a triumphant little smile.

Sam parked up and got down from the SUV. He fumbled in the back for a second, retrieving a bunch of flowers and a bottle of single malt whisky with a bow on it.

"We going to a prom?" commented Dean, as he got out.

"It's not just a social evening, Dean, and you know it," Sam retorted.

Mann met them at the front door, looking real good in a tight, muscle-defining, charcoal-gray turtleneck and jeans. He took the gifts from Sam with a big smile, and leaned up to peck his ex on the lips. Dean hoped he wasn't going to try that with everyone, and he wished he hadn't tried it with Sam, and that Sam hadn't let him. He bypassed Mann's proffered handshake and walked straight into the house.

TBC

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A/N: So how is Dean going to feel about Sam socializing with his hot-older-guy ex-lover? More soon...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Took a break from my DIY to get a new chapter edited...

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Love Extra (Chapter 3) by frostygossamer

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Dean looked around Mann's living room. It was stylishly decorated. Expensive drapes, handmade carpets, antique furniture, walls lined with books. Dean wondered if Sam had helped him pick out the decor.

He wasn't sure if this was the same address Mann and Sam had lived at together, and he didn't want to ask. The idea that his new partner used to be all 'Ozzie and Harriet' with some other guy made him feel strangely insecure.

There were about two dozen guests standing around in small groups chatting. Dean noted that his neighbourhood 'witch', Dr. Sharp, hadn't warranted an invite. That gave him a slight happy feeling.

Mann walked in the room with Sam. Dean didn't much like how close the older dude was standing to HIS guy. Nor did he like the way Sam was smiling and laughing at Mann's jokes. Dean stalked right on over.

"You'll know everyone here, I guess, Sam," Mann was saying. "Pretty much the same gang as when you were here before. Prof. Lee, Prof. Ryan, Prof. Ching, Prof. Kowalski, Prof. Hernandez..."

Jeez, everyone in the room was a certified high achiever, except for Dean.

"Dude, anyone here NOT a professor?" Dean asked, trying to sound light and joky.

Mann gave him a condescending smile. "Lee's wife is a senior cardiac surgeon," he suggested. "And Kowalski's married to the internationally famous opera singer Mariska Kay. You may have heard of her?"

Dean hadn't. Opera had largely passed him by. He was into ANOTHER kind of classic: Classic Rock. But he DID totally get the sarcasm in Mann's voice. He glanced at Sam for support, but Sam was ignoring him, scoping the room, nodding to old friends. Dean felt kind of out of place. He sure didn't belong in this crowd.

Suddenly there was a very British sounding burst of laughter from the middle of the room. Mann's eyes lit up. He grasped his ex by the elbow and dragged him over to the central huddle, where the guest of honour was making small talk with senior Faculty members. Dean trailed along behind them.

"Fergus," Mann butted in through the conversation. "I'd like you to meet my close associate, Sam Winchester. He's recently returned to Stanford after a foray into the world of business."

Professor Crowley, a short, dapper individual with a mischievous smile, raised a questioning eyebrow. "Oh, is that right?" he asked.

"More than a foray," Sam corrected him, stiffly. "The company has been very successful. Our year-on-year profits tripled last year."

Crowley's expression turned impressed. He beamed up at Sam.

"Very interesting, young sir," he commented, pulling Sam aside. "We should talk."

Mann watched them go, grinning, and began to chitchat with the remaining group. He caught Dean's eye and frowned slightly. Dean snorted and turned away.

Assuming Sam and Crowley would be talking shop, Dean decided to take the opportunity to seek out a drink for himself. He noticed a pretty young waitress circulating with a tray of champagne and whiskey. He winked at her, she hove over and he helped himself to a finger of Scotch. And then another.

"Nice atmos," he commented to the girl, with a smirk.

She caught his drift and smiled back. "If you like dry-as-dust," she agreed. "Kinda tedious if you ask me. If I wasn't tryna finagle a better grade from Professor Mann..."

"You're in his classes?" Dean asked, conversationally, sipping his whiskey.

"Uh-huh," the girl answered. "And I jumped at the chance to grab a look at the new guy. Getting him over here was some coup for Prof. Mann. Shame he's gay."

"Mann," Dean translated, taking a third glass.

"No. I mean Professor Crowley," she corrected him, then she giggled and whispered, "Kinduva sexual predator too, so they say. Over here looking for 'fresh meat'."

"The hell!" thought Dean. "And he's just sneaked away with MY guy. The little...!"

Dropping his glass on the waitress' tray, Dean hustled right off to track down Sam and save him from the hands of this supposed sex-shark Crowley.

~X~

Searching the first floor for Sam and Crowley, Dean found his way to the door of Mann's study. He was about to barge in when he heard voices. He applied a curious ear to the closed door.

"Sorry, Sam," said Mann's voice. "Behaved like an idiot and I know that now. Can't you find a way to see past that and forgive?"

"It's not about forgiveness, Dave," replied Sam's voice. "We've grown apart. We were growing apart even before you agreed to tour Europe without word one."

"Never meant to neglect you, honey," wheedled Mann. "I was kinda... overwhelmed by the book deal, the film deal, the money..."

"Oh yeah, the money," snorted Sam. "And where is that now? You're back here at Stanford and you wanna forget the last few years and make everything the way it was? Dude, it's too damn late."

"And so, what?" demanded Mann. "You left Palo Alto to start your little company with your new friends. Picked up some trashy piece of blue-collar beefcake..."

Hey, that was Dean who Mann was talking about. Dean bristled in outrage.

"OK, Sam," Dean murmured. "Tell him that's so NOT what I am."

But there was silence. A silence that went on a little too long for Dean's liking.

Then there came a gasp from Sam. "Don't," he said. "You can't do that anymore. You can't kiss me like I'm yours, Dave. You gave up that right."

Mann was making a move on Sam? Dean was ready to storm right in, when he heard Sam striding toward the door and jumped back.

"Sam!" called Mann, as Sam snatched the door open and strode away down the hall, blind to Dean's presence.

~X~

They regrouped in the living room, but Sam only managed to stay another half hour before he told Dean he wanted to go home. Dean drove them back to their place while Sam sat silently staring out the SUV's passenger window.

Back home, "Make us some hot chocolate?" suggested Dean. They had already downed enough alcohol at Mann's.

"Sure," agreed Sam, nodding tiredly. "Gonna go straight to bed. Bring it upstairs?"

A few minutes later, Dean climbed the stairs with two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies on a tray. He found Sam already in bed, idly flicking through the stations on their huge, wall-mounted TV. Dean placed the tray in Sam's lap and started to undress.

"Shouldn't've gone to that damn party," remarked Sam. "Should've known Dave had an agenda."

"Agenda?" asked Dean, as he slipped in bed beside him.

"He wants me back, Dean," explained Sam. "He thinks he just has to whistle the right tune and I'll come running."

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, but you got me now," he observed. He picked up his mug and took a sip. "Right?"

"He called you blue-collar beefcake," Sam chuckled. "Guess he figures you as some rebound lay."

"The hell I am," responded Dean, choking on his chocolate. "Am I?"

Sam smiled and kissed him on the shoulder. "You're the real deal, baby," he assured him. "Been over Dave a long time."

There was a pause in conversation for a moment, while they both sipped their chocolate and nibbled on cookies.

"He kissed you," Dean stated quietly.

"How... how'd you know?" demanded Sam.

"Was outside the study door. Looking for Crowley," Dean explained. "Heard him kiss you."

Sam gave him a bemused look. "You HEARD him kiss me?"

Dean returned his look straight. "I HEARD," he insisted.

Sam sighed and settled further into his pillows. "He TRIED to kiss me. Pushed him away."

Dean decided to believe that for now, so he nodded. "Good."

Sam regarded him for a moment. "Why were you looking for Crowley?" he asked, curious.

"Because..." said Dean, placing both mugs back on the tray and putting it aside. He pulled Sam closer. "Because he's got a rep as a player, and he'd gotten his beady little eyes on you. That's why."

Sam laughed. "Guess Dave was aware of that. He stuck him with the Dean."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"The Dean of the Faculty," Sam chuckled, and rolled across to hover over his lover. "And you were gonna defend my virtue, huh?"

"Those guys were on you like flies on honey," snarled Dean, betraying his jealousy.

Sam grinned. He loved the way Dean would get all protective of him, even though he was big enough to take care of himself. He bobbed down and kissed Dean on the lips.

"Too bad for them I'm spoken for, huh?"

"Spoken for," Dean repeated firmly. "Claimed. Taken. Possessed." He kissed Sam between each word.

"Wanna possess me right now?" Sam asked archly, moving his hips against Dean's.

Dean grabbed his lover by the shoulders and rolled them both over so that he was on top, leaning down to capture Sam's lips in a lingering kiss.

"Do I," he growled.

Sam clamped his thighs tight around Dean's hips.

"You wanna be top tonight, baby?" he asked softly.

"Way I'm thinking," Dean nodded. "Need to show you who's boss."

"So you're the boss of me, huh?" Sam chuckled.

Dean smirked down at him. "Reckon you like it that way, Sammy."

"Maybe I do," Sam allowed. "But sometimes I like to mix it up. Sometimes I wanna take it. Sometimes I wanna watch you take it. You're so hot when you give it up, baby, all open and needy, whimpering under me."

Dean stared down at him for a moment in disbelief.

"You want this dick or not?" he asked sharply, just an edge of humour to his voice. "Cos it's all that's on offer tonight."

Sam grinned. "Baby," he said. "Quit talking."

~X~

Dean woke up the next morning wrapped up inside Sam's huge frame. He smirked to himself and snuggled in closer. Now Dean was a tall guy himself, and he generally hated anything that made him feel small. Sam was the one exception. Sam had this way of making Dean feel delicate, fragile even. Like no one else, he got to Dean's feminine side, something Jo had pointed out Dean hid like a shameful family secret. But somehow it felt good. With Sam it felt good. Only with Sam.

Sam was half awake. When Dean stirred, he rubbed his big hand gently over Dean's back.

"Mornin' lover," he murmured.

OK, so they were both awake. Dean no longer had an excuse to sleep in. And he had a job to go to.

"Lemme get up, Sam," he protested, wriggling out of the big guy's arms. "Gotta get dressed. Due at the repair shop 8:30."

Sam groaned. "You really gotta go, baby?" he whined. "Could so sleep late. Maybe fool around?"

Dean sighed. Boy, that was a hard offer to pass up.

"Promised I'd go in, Sam. Sorry," he said, and he forced himself to get out of bed and go get a shower.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Time for Dean to meet some of the regular inhabitants of Palo Alto. More soon.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So far Dean hasn't much liked the snobby academics he's met. Maybe he'll run into some people he'll like better soon?

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 4) by frostygossamer

* * *

The two regular mechanics at the little auto-repair shop couldn't have been more different from each other, or more different to the two Latino hombres Dean had worked with in his previous job.

Ludo, the owner, was a total motorhead. He dressed like a biker, wore his hair scraped back into a ponytail and sported a handlebar moustache. But he was real knowledgeable about engines of all kinds, and so skilled at his trade he almost made Dean feel like a newbie. By contrast, bushy-bearded Jules was an affable neo-hippy who liked nothing better than to sleep in back, and gave the impression he was always slightly high.

Their hairy faces made Dean feel self-conscious of his own boyishly smooth chin. Maybe he should grow a beard? Yeah, Sam would like that... NOT.

"Pothead?" Dean asked Ludo, when he observed Jules snoring in a client's ride.

Ludo grinned. "Was," he answered. "Guess he smoked so much weed in his 20s he's never come all the way back down to Earth."

It had been a couple months since Dean had worked in a commercial shop, but he had no problem slipping smoothly back in the routine. Sweating every day at a garage, just to keep his head financially above water, had been hard. Knowing that THIS job was part-time, and he could walk away whenever he wanted, made it one WHOLE lot more fun.

The garage was a place that catered to the more well-off Stanford students and staff. Dudes who had zero idea how to maintain their own vehicles. Dean reckoned people like that didn't deserve to drive. He couldn't see himself driving anything if he wasn't totally aware of what was going on under the hood.

Dean spent the morning working on a smart little hot-rod, way out of the league of your average student. The story was, the owner had had an argument with a tree. Jules helped Dean out by valeting the high spec interior while he worked. The guy was also scheduled to deliver the repaired machine to its owner.

"Guy's got himself all the extras," the old hippy commented, admiringly. "Looks like Daddy's boy gets all the best toys, huh?"

Dean grunted agreement from inside the hood. He only gave a damn about the engine. He could care less about optional extras like tints, finishes and fancy seat covers.

When he slammed the hood down on a job well done, Dean discovered Jules had sneaked away someplace. He found him in the locker room taking a nap. He prodded the guy, but all he did was grumble sleepily. Dean returned to the forecourt, where Ludo was working on a motorbike.

"Listen, Ludo," he said. "I'm done now. I can drop the roadster off."

He was finished for the day anyways. Ludo nodded absently as he worked on his own job.

"Sure. You do that," he said, waving Dean along.

~X~

The car belonged to a fraternity boy. Dean found the frat house without much difficulty. He parked outside and walked up the front steps and through the open door into the house. Guys were wandering in and out. Several students were working in the entrance pinning up streamers and hand-drawn banners. Apparently they were planning some kind of a party in a couple days.

As Dean stood in the doorway, a bunch of frat boys came barrelling down the stairs. Some were dressed as Looney Tunes characters, others were wearing mini-skirts, ridiculous high-heels and cartoonish make-up. They shoved their way past him and spilled out into the grounds, laughing wildly, clearly already half hammered even at this hour.

"Freakin' college boys," Dean muttered to himself, tetchily.

Dean had an invoice in his hand with the name of the car's owner on it, Patrick. He stopped a couple guys carrying an overstuffed couch someplace.

"You know this guy?" he asked, holding up the paperwork for them to read.

They glanced at the invoice and nodded toward a guy sitting in the main room, idly drinking a can of beer while others worked around him.

"Figures," thought Dean.

"This you? You Patrick?" he asked the guy, holding up the invoice and jangling the keys to the vehicle in his face.

The guy grinned widely and jumped straight up out of his chair, grabbing the keys.

"Oh, great!" he yelped. "Been sweating on that baby. Dad's coming up next week and I was scared he'd find out I'd wrecked her. Only had her a month."

Patrick rushed out the door and down the steps to the car. Pausing a moment to run a hand over the repaired bodywork, he jumped straight in the driver's seat, switching on the engine. The engine purred to life beautifully.

"Hey, she sounds even better than when they delivered her new. You guys did a great job," he exclaimed happily.

"Like to go the extra mile," remarked Dean. "She's a quality machine."

The frat boy climbed out of his vehicle and clapped Dean heartily on the back.

"Sure saved my bacon, buddy," he said enthusiastically, reaching into his back pocket for his money clip.

Dean waved a dismissive hand. "Just pay the damn bill," he said.

He didn't need a tip from this guy. Dean was a craftsman not some bellhop.

Patrick gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry," he said. "No offence meant."

He seemed genuinely mortified. Maybe not such a douche after all. Dean nodded and turned to go.

"Hey!" Patrick called after him. "Wanna come to the party Friday? Great music. Free booze. Easy chicks. Open house. What's not to like?"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, sure," he laughed, as he walked away.

He was so older than that.

~X~

Come Friday afternoon, Dean was looking forward to a lazy weekend with his partner. He went out to the store and bought the fixings for an authentic Thai banquet. When his dad was still around, Dean had often wound up the one stuck with feeding the two of them, and they frequently didn't have the cash to eat out, so he had learned to be a fair plain cook. Since he had moved up market, he thought it was time he branched out into something less home-style.

He was getting down to paring the lemongrass when his cellphone buzzed in his pocket. It was Sam.

"Hi, Sam," Dean answered happily. "Guess what I'm rustling up for dinner."

There was a sigh from the other end of the line. "Er... Sorry, baby. But I'm gonna hafta skip dinner."

Dean's heart sank.

"Dave's asked me to stay late and go over the term papers with him," Sam went on. "It'll take a couple hours at least."

"Freakin' Mann," thought Dean, angrily. "Hogging my guy all the damn time."

"Sure," he answered, sullenly. "Whatever ya gotta do. Only that guy better not have himself any ideas..."

"Hell no," chuckled Sam. "Strictly work, baby, or I'm outta here. I'll try to get away as soon as. OK?"

"OK," Dean begrudgingly agreed. "See you when you land, huh?"

The call terminated. "Crap!" he breathed.

So no romantic candle-lit Thai dinner THAT night. Dean scooped up what he could save and put it all in the fridge. Feeling disappointed, he traipsed in Sam's study, hooked up his little MP3 player to Sam's hi-fi and lay back on the couch with AC/DC pounding through Sam's headphones.

~X~

Sam put down the phone and sighed. Dean had sounded disappointed and he couldn't blame him. Spending Friday evening hanging out with Dave was something Sam could have done without. He had been looking forward to a little down time with his lover. Still, Sam owed it to his students to put in a few extra hours of prep. There was a big milestone test coming up.

He had to agree with Dave that it would be better to get everything done before the weekend started for real. That way Sam would get to spend quality time with Dean without all that preparation work hanging over his head. Actually he would rather have gotten stuck into it himself without Dave volunteering to help out, but he couldn't exactly tell him where to go. He was his Head of Faculty, after all.

"Little missus OK?," Dave asked sarcastically, pulling a chair up close so he could see the PC screen over Sam's shoulder.

Sam resisted the impulse to lean away. He didn't need to feel Dave's hot breath on his neck.

"Dean was cooking tonight," he replied, acidly. "Naturally he's kinda pissed."

Dave chuckled. "Poor baby," he commented, taking a bottle down from the shelf behind him. "Like a nip, Sam?"

"No," Sam replied sharply, applying himself to the work in hand. "Got a lot to finish here."

Sam knew he wasn't going to be tempted by his ex, no matter how up close and personal they got, alone in his office, but he wasn't entirely sure Dave had gotten the message. And he was aware that Dean was very suspicious of Dave's motives, and his. He didn't want to give Dean any reason to suspect something was going on. Nothing was going on.

Dave smiled and patted Sam's knee. "Reminds me of old times," he said. "Working on your dissertation. Good times, huh?"

Sam groaned. "Dude, can we just keep this a, uh, business relationship?"

Well, he would have to make it up to Dean some way when he DID finally get home. And he had plenty ideas. He just hoped Dean wouldn't be too cheesed off from spending an evening home alone.

~X~

After a couple hours had passed and Sam still hadn't shown, Dean started to get antsy, and thirsty. Damn that Dave Mann for keeping Sam back in school like a naughty kid in detention. Didn't he realize they might have had plans for Friday night, like any couple? Yeah, well, of course he knew, the bastard. He had so obviously done this intentionally. And the worst thing was, Sam had gone along with it.

For a guy who was supposed to be Dean's partner, Sam was WAY to obliging to his so-called ex. Dean wasn't some faculty 'wife' who was going to sit home and wait while Sam schmoozed the boss, or the boss smooched Sam. That was so NOT what Dean had signed up for when he had agreed to move state to live with the guy.

Dean couldn't help but feel left out of the loop. He was an outsider here and he always would be. Mann was never going to accept him, and he was always going to be a burden to Sam and his academic ambitions. Honestly, Dean thought he had more in common with the morons at that frat house.

Then a thought occurred to him. When was it they were throwing the big party at that fraternity house? Friday night? Yeah, and it WAS Friday night.

"Hell," Dean thought. "Least there's ONE place I'd fit in."

In ten minutes he was dressed for partying and on his way to meet with his new fraternity buddy, Patrick.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Looks like Dean's going to have a quiet night in... NOT. Updating soon.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Going to that frat party was always going to be a mistake...

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 5) by frostygossamer

* * *

Sam stood there dangerously silent, as Dean was led out of the holding cells and discharged. He had been waiting at the Campus Police Department for over an hour, and he was far from pleased.

Placing a big hand on Dean's shoulder, he guided the hungover ex-jailbird out to their SUV and waited while he got into the shotgun seat. Then Sam went around to the driver's door and climbed in beside him. He didn't start the engine right away. There were things he had to get off of his chest first.

Dean had kept his head down all the time like some guilty kid. He winced when Sam began to speak, his head feeling the size of a beachball, and throbbing like a marching band.

"Dude, I had to stand in line to bail you out," he snapped, "with a bunch of other 'dads'."

"Never claimed to be anyone's kid, Sam," Dean pointed out, meekly.

"No?" retorted Sam. "But I guess it was a reasonable assumption, given you'd been hanging with those idiot jocks and behaving like some goddamn juvenile."

"It was just... You bailed on dinner, Sam," Dean tried to explain. "Went over there for ONE drink. ONE."

"Like hell you did," growled Sam. "You went over there to teach me some kinda lesson."

Dean sighed. "Maybe," he admitted. "Was a little mad with you."

Sam shook his head. "Apparently you were the life and soul of the freakin' keg party," he grumbled. "Toilet-papered Prof. Lee's place? Egged that sorority house? Dressed up the Dean's dog like some kinda werewolf? Dean, what were you thinking? You're not eighteen anymore."

Dean fidgeted in his seat. "Got a little steamed, is all," he explained. "It got out of hand, I guess."

"Yeah, I'd say," agreed Sam, starting the engine.

They drove home in silence.

~X~

When Dean turned up at the fraternity house, the party was aready in full swing. He hesitated for a moment before going inside. What was he doing there? But he made up his mind, since he had come so far, he might as well have ONE drink, so he went on indoors.

Smooching couples were ensconsed in every corner and all the way up the staircase, excavating for each other's tonsils. Something raucous, that might have been music but Dean couldn't recognize, was playing on huge speakers, while a pretty Goth girl, make-up smudged, strained to warble to it. She was barely audible over the crowd.

A group of frat boys was playing drinking games around a beer keg in the corner of the main room, manhandling some guy upside down so he could attempt to drain an inverted glass. Their laughter was loud and had a cruel edge to it. The guy was getting more beer in his hair than down his throat.

"If this is what college guys call fun, guess I didn't miss out on much," Dean thought.

That was BEFORE he started drinking.

An hour later, the frat boys were starting to look like the best of old buddies, the chicks were like model Venuses and Dean had found his natural place as the star of the event. He showed his new pals just how an inverted beer is SUPPOSED to be drunk, and then another, and then another.

Then the gang decided it was time to show the rest of the school what great guys they could really be. Dean's inner child showed his face, and he and the guys ran amok around campus, gleefully raising hell.

That was until they got arrested by Campus Police.

College PD had received several calls from angry complainants, alarmed by the noise, before they tracked down the source of the campus disturbance.

The gang had gotten into the college pool building through a broken window, and were caught making out with a bunch of drunk and slutty sorority girls in the actual pool. As he was marched away in handcuffs, Dean shamefacedly gave the cops Sam's name.

An officer called Sam soon as they got the guys in the cells. Sam had been home a while and, finding the house empty, had been worried sick about where Dean had gotten himself to. When he found out the guy had been arrested, he wasn't exactly cock-a-hoop about it. He decided to let Dean spend a night in lock-up.

They call it 'Tough Love'.

~X~

Sam parked up outside their house and got straight out of the SUV without speaking to Dean. He went straight in the kitchen and put on the coffee-maker. Dean crept in a few steps behind, the hangover robbing him of his usual confident walk.

"You're gonna need a strong, black one," Sam said, grimly. "And maybe a nice greasy sausage sandwich, huh?"

Dean felt his stomach turn over at the mention of greasy food.

"Just the coffee, thanks," he said, plonking his butt down at the kitchen table with a wince.

Sam filled two mugs and set them on the table, sitting down across from him. He was silent for a moment as he watched Dean gingerly sip his steaming java.

"So?" he asked, eventually. "You got ANY explanation for me? One that DOESN'T sound half-assed?"

Dean exhaled. "Sometimes," he began uncertainly. "Sometimes I feel like I don't belong here, Sam."

"Seem to be fitting in just great," Sam retorted dryly.

"Yep. With the kids maybe," Dean agreed. "But YOUR social circle, not so much."

Sam sighed and put down his coffee.

"Dean," he said. "Dude, it'll take a little time..."

"Oh sure," grumbled Dean. "Somehow I don't see myself as some freakin' Stepford wife, hosting polite little get togethers for your fellow professors. That is SO not me."

"No one's asking you to, Dean," Sam assured him. "Just want you to be yourself, have fun, kick back, maybe take a couple classes..." That was Sam's idea of fun.

"Why?" Dean demanded, narrowing his eyes. "Cos I'm a dumb sonuvabitch? You ashamed of me? That it?"

Sam was quick to deny it. "Baby, no way am I ashamed of you," he insisted, but Dean got up and stomped out of the room.

"Gonna go get me some shut-eye, Sam," he explained, as he walked away. "Head feels like it's gonna explode."

Sam let him go. They could settle this later.

"There's Advil in the bathroom cabinet," he called after him.

~X~

Dean lay on the bed and closed his eyes.

He didn't need this aggravation. Why did his life have to be so full of freakin' problems? It had never been like that when he was growing up, when it was just him and his dad, on the road. Back then life was simple.

Dean went to his happy place.

He was sitting in shotgun. Back in his dad's old Chevy, window rolled down, fresh air washing his face, AC/DC playing loud on the cassette player, John humming along and tapping the steering wheel. Dean was sixteen. He could have lived in that moment forever.

"Doncha worry, son," said John. "We don't need those freakin' suburbanite snobs. They can eat our dust. We're on our way to better things."

"Yeah, sure," agreed Dean. "Just... There was this one girl..."

"Girl?" John snorted a laugh. "Shoulda known. You'll find plenty girls where we're headed. You're a good-looking kid, like your dad. Chicks dig us."

Dean had to grin. Since his mother's death, his dad hadn't exactly pursued the ladies, but he was never short of female interest. And, yeah, Dean took after his dad in so many ways.

"Footloose is what we are," John went on. "Cosy firesides, picket fences and pot roast on Sundays are for soft-asses, not real men like you and me."

"Yep, that's right, Dad," Dean answered.

Back then Dean had believed that too. Travelling was fun, most of the time. Just him and John. It was great while it lasted. Until John was gone.

Dean missed his dad so freakin' much...

~X~

When Dean woke up, laying on their bed fully clothed, it was afternoon. He went downstairs and found that Sam had gone out again, probably back to his office at college. The house seemed kind of lonely. Any other day, Dean would have gone to the repair shop to work on his project Chevy, but not with the head he had right then. He helped himself to some Advil and a glass of bottled water, and sat down to think.

Things weren't going well between him and his new partner. Sure, Sam was a great guy, fun to be with, one hell of a lover and perhaps the closest thing to a soulmate Dean had found since his dad had passed away. But Dean and Sam belonged to different worlds. Sam was a high-flying academic and Dean was... What was he? A working stiff who had gotten lucky when he ran into a fairytale prince on the damn public bus?

Mann was the kind of guy Sam should be with. Mann was urbane, socially adept and witty. Dean could never measure up to a guy like that. He was working-class beefcake, just like Mann had said. Sam was sweet about it, but Dean was sure that was what he thought too. Dean WAS nothing but a rebound guy, and Sam was probably already regretting having hooked up with him.

Sam would be happier without him.

Dean went upstairs and packed a duffel bag with a few clothes. He took a little cash to tide him over, but left the credit cards Sam had given him on the kitchen table with a note. He let himself out the front door, and popped his keys back through the mail slot.

Then he walked away, and caught a bus.

~X~

When Sam came home that evening, he was in a mood to forgive and forget. He had been mulling Dean's behaviour over in his mind all day. At first he couldn't comprehend why a grown guy like Dean would even want to behave like some idiot freshman, pulling off childish stunts to impress a bunch of frat boys.

Since then, he had talked things over with a friend who was a student counsellor and, with her help, he had come to see that he had been neglecting his relationship with Dean. Confused and insecure, Dean had been acting out to get Sam's attention.

Sam had asked the guy to up sticks and follow him to Palo Alto, but had never really considered what a seismic upheaval it had been for him. Of course Dean was finding it hard fitting in. The poor guy hadn't even finished highschool. No wonder he felt alienated in Stanford's scholarly environment.

He blamed himself that he hadn't even given Dean the consideration he gave to students who came from 'the wrong side of the tracks'. He had to admit he had been kind of blind, but only because he was desperate to keep Dean in his life. He hadn't wanted to admit they might not work.

"Dean?" he called, as he let himself in the front door.

There was no reply. The house seemed dead quiet.

"DEAN?!" he yelled, worry growling inside him.

He checked in the living room, the kitchen and upstairs. No Dean! On the kitchen table lay a couple credit cards and a sheet of notepaper. Sam picked up the paper and read the scribbled message.

**_Sorry, Sammy._**

**_We both know it's not working._**  
**_Least we gave it a try._**

**_Have a good life._**

**_Dean._**

"Son of a bitch," gasped Sam. "He's left me."

TBC

* * *

A/N: Silly Dean has done it again, walking out on Sam. What will Sam do? More soon.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: So Dean has vamoosed again. Meant to post this earlier but I've had a touch of the dreaded lurgy.

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 6) by frostygossamer

* * *

Dean sat on his motel bed listlessly watching TV. At least, he was staring at the screen, but he couldn't have told anyone what show he was actually seeing. It was only a few hours since he had walked away from his new 'gay lifestyle' and back to being the sad screw-up he used to be before he met Sam.

He had jumped on a bus and found himself a cheap motel near to the garage. There was something homey about those shabby, anonymous places that reminded him of simpler times, growing up with his dad. But he had never enjoyed staying in them alone.

On the nightstand, his cellphone vibrated once and again as a call from Sam came through. He knew he should have switched the damn thing off, but it was somehow comforting to know that Sam was even trying. Not that Dean ever intended to take his call. That would just be unfair on the guy.

Dean had nothing to say to Sam. A clean break would be best. It had been just the same way with his ex, Jo. As soon as he had accepted that he was no good for her, that he was so much less than she deserved, he had packed up and moved out. It had been so much easier that way, for everyone.

As he sat staring stonily at the TV screen, Dean refused to acknowledge an unmanly tear roll down his face. Crying was so gay, and he wasn't going to be gay anymore.

~X~

For the first week, Sam felt like he was rattling around his house like a pea in a drum. Every time he walked in a room he half expected Dean to pop up and say something dickish, in his own inimitable way. He couldn't quit sleeping on one side of the bed. Showering on his own sucked. It hardly seemed worth cooking for one, so he was living off of pizza.

Sam was mad with Dean and mad with himself. He had honestly believed he had left all this singleton crap behind, but somehow it seemed he couldn't hold on to any man. He might as well get used to being alone. And though his heart was yelling, "Go after him, damn it. Drag him back home if you have to," his brain would keep on reminding him, "He's walked out on you before. He'll do it again. He's gotta WANT to come home, by himself," and time passed without word from Dean.

Sam started to work late in college every day after classes, which should have been good, only his concentration was shot. His teaching suffered. He would lose track of his argument, get mixed up in his notes. His students began to mutter rebelliously. Rumour slowly filtered up through the faculty hierarchy that Prof. Winchester was either having a breakdown, or maybe losing his mind.

At the end of the month, Prof. Mann called his subordinate to his office for a 'cosy chat'.

~X~

Sam turned up at Mann's office almost an hour after their appointment, looking vague and harassed.

Mann looked him up and down, then motioned for him to take the leather chair positioned in front of his enormous desk. The huge desk was so piled high with books and student papers that Sam could barely see the guy between the stacks.

Mann reached into his bottom drawer, and retrieved a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers. He poured them both a shot and nudged one over toward Sam, nodding in encouragement. Sam picked up the glass and cradled it in both hands nervously.

Mann knew his ex very well. Sam never got this discomposed, this dishevelled, just through overwork. Something more was to blame. He stared into his drink for a moment, considering his best approach, then he took a swallow and spoke.

"Hope you know you can talk to me, Sam," he began, in an understanding tone. "Just because we have history..."

Sam shook his head. "Dave, there's nothing to talk about," he murmured. "I'm fine."

Mann smiled and leaned closer to the younger guy.

"I know you, Sam," he said. "You're NOT 'fine'. You haven't been yourself lately. You've been distracted, and your work is suffering. That's not like you."

Sam sighed, sipped his drink and took a deep breath.

"Dean left me," he blurted out.

Mann felt an involuntary spike of triumph shoot through him, before he controlled himself, schooling his features into an expression of sympathy.

"Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry to hear that," he lied.

Finally coming out and saying it caused Sam's emotions to well up inside him. He manfully fought back the urge to blub. Instead he knocked back his whiskey and heaved a shaky sigh.

"Reckon he was kinda overwhelmed by Stanford," he chuckled sadly. "Guy never finished highschool."

Mann wasn't surprised. He hadn't imagined Sam had chosen his new partner for his brains, not with THAT body. He got up and came around the desk. Perching beside Sam's chair, he put a comforting arm around the younger man's shoulders.

"Don't distress yourself, honey," he soothed him softly. "The guy's not worth it."

Sam actually laughed. "Oh c'mon," he protested. "Why does everyone say that to me, huh? They don't know him. They don't know Dean. He's beautiful, and a sweetheart. He really is. I actually thought he was gonna be the- the one-"

He stopped, choked up. They had had so many plans...

Mann gave his hand a comforting squeeze. If he wanted Sam back, this was the perfect opportunity. All Mann needed to do was be there for Sam when he was feeling so damn low, and he would drift right on back into his ex-lover's arms. But was Mann enough of a heel that he would take advantage of a poor guy that way?

Maybe.

He lifted Sam's chin and, leaning down, pressed his lips to his ex's mouth. Sam tensed up at first, then relaxed into the kiss. The poor guy really needed to feel loved right then.

"You know what?" Mann said in a kindly tone. "Why don't I take you out for dinner. Better than going back to a lonely house, huh?"

Sam nodded, that empty house only reminded him of Dean. "Sure," he said. "Why not?"

Mann grabbed his leather jacket and wallet and they headed out. He felt sure, after a good meal and a few glasses of wine, that Sam would be feeling a little happier.

And a lot more pliable.

~X~

Meanwhile across town, Dean had been getting by on his own, just like he always did. The guys at the repair shop had been fine, even enthusiastic, about him upping his hours to full-time working. So he had plenty of his own money to get by on. He would save up, he thought, and someday pay Sam back everything he had spent settling Dean's loans.

It had been fun while it lasted, but his gay experiment was over. It had turned out to be a washout. He would go back to being straight, or in denial anyways. He would remember Sam as his one and only... aberration. Sadly, his gay days were done.

The seedy motel Dean was living in was handy for the repair shop. It wasn't much of a room but it was all he could afford. It was the kind of room he had grown up in while his dad was still travelling around living off of casual work, before he had started to get sick and had to settle down. It wasn't much, but somehow Dean felt it was where he belonged, what he deserved. The California Beauty gated community on Sassafras Street had been great, but he had belonged there like a rat belongs in a palace.

Dean had had another restless night. Why was it taking so long to get back to sleeping alone? He really missed the feel of Sam's warmth in the bed beside him, the gentle sound of his breathing. If only he could reach out and touch... No. He had to stop thinking that way.

He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror staring at his drawn face in the smeary glass.

"What's wrong with you, you stupid jerk?" he asked himself, tetchily. "That world was never for you. You're better off alone. No good for anyone."

He picked up his razor and grimaced at the length of his stubble. Shaving was something he could live without. After all, who was he trying to look good for? He decided to give it a miss. He put down the razor and walked out of the bathroom.

He was starting a new life, he may as well begin it with a new look. Down-and-out.

~X~

Mann should have been happy as a clam. He sat at his desk in college trying to grade student reports, but he couldn't concentrate for thinking about his ex, Sam. Last night they had eaten dinner at a little French place off campus, one of their favourite eateries when they were still together. Slowly Sam had relaxed a little and a weak smile had returned to his pallid face.

It had been good to see Sam smile at him and laugh at his jokes again, like old times. But there was a sadness beneath Sam's polite facade that worried Mann. Despite everything, it hurt him to see Sam unhappy. It made him even more angry with this interloper, Dean. This male-model airhead Sam had picked up someplace.

When he had first heard the guy's name, Mann had been convinced that Sam was simply bragging about some random stud, to make HIM jealous, to show HIM he could live without him, didn't need HIM anymore. When he had finally laid eyes on the guy, his suspicions had been confirmed.

As Mann saw it, that guy was nothing more than an irritatingly younger version of himself, well-built, handsome, with a soupcon of charisma thrown in, exactly like HE used to be when he was that kid's age. It had vexed him more than if Sam had found himself someone utterly different, a woman even.

It was like Sam was saying, "Yep, this could have been you if you hadn't been so damn... OLD." Who could blame him for being a little stung, even a little wounded? But that was before he had seen what a wreck Sam had become since the guy walked out.

He remembered the way Sam had been that night in the restaurant...

Mann had been with Sam long enough to know when the guy was faking. He could plainly see, even as Sam chatted with him about work and student issues over his bouillabaisse, that he was barely holding it together. It made Mann mad, seeing him this way. He wanted to reach out and touch Sam, show him he was right there for him.

"Dean left me," Sam had said, and the pathos behind that simple sentence tugged at even Mann's weatherworn old heartstrings.

"Honey, you can count on me," he had replied, anxious to soothe the younger guy's pain. "I'm right here for you. Just like always."

Sam had snorted softly. "Like always?"

Yeah, well, aside from the jetting off to Europe he had been.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he had answered, leaning closer. "Not gonna make the same stupid-ass mistake again. Forgive me?"

Sam looked him right in the eyes and said, "Dave, I already forgave you. I moved on."

Remembering that statement of Sam's brought Mann back to the present.

He leaned back in his creaky office chair and exhaled. It was starting to sink in. Sam was never going to want him back while this new guy was still on his mind. His ex had found someone new who meant so much more to him than HE ever had. THEIR partnership had blossomed during Sam's student years from basically a mentor-prot g set-up. It was grounded on mutual respect. But Sam's relationship with this new guy was clearly something else, something MORE. Sam was head over heels in love with this ungrateful schmuck.

And the idiot had walked out? What a jerk. How dared he do that to Sam?

Mann picked up the intercom and spoke to his secretary.

"Hi, Christian," he said. "Can you ring around the local service places and find out for me where this guy Dean works, huh? Reckon my bike could use a tune up."

TBC

* * *

A/N: What's Mann going to say to Dean? More soon.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Dave Mann is getting ready to pop over for a little face-to-facer with Dean...

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 7) by frostygossamer

* * *

Sam missed Dean, sure he did. Like his still-beating heart had been torn out. Yet he had known Dean long enough to realize that running after the guy was only going to spook him. Yeah, he could have found out were he was living. Heck, he knew the garage were he had been working lately. He could have stormed up to him, told him to stop being such a damn jackass and to come on home. But he realized that Dean had to come back of his own accord or not at all. And right then 'not at all' seemed to be the option the poor idiot was going with.

Then, one morning, a couple weeks after Dean walked out, a heavy piece of mail landed on Sam's mat with a thunk. It was addressed to Dean. Sam stared at it over breakfast, wondering if it was something important he should open. When he came home that evening he decided to go ahead.

The envelope contained paperwork from a lawyer's office, more precisely, DIVORCE papers from Jo.

Sam was shocked. Sure, he knew Jo was Dean's ex. The guy had told him about her and how they had split over a year before Dean ran into Sam on that bus. But he had assumed they had only been living together. Dean had never mentioned that they were actually MARRIED. All this time Sam had been living with a married guy. He was the 'other woman'.

Sam wasn't sure how he should take the news. Maybe it wasn't such a big deal these days, but somehow the fact Dean couldn't talk to him about it seemed ridiculous. It was bordering on the pathological.

Why on earth did Dean still feel he had to bottle everything up inside? If only he could have opened up to Sam about everything, they wouldn't be sleeping alone in separate parts of town.

~X~

Dean was working in the repair shop. Today's job was an open-topped number belonging to one of the guy's from the fraternity house, one of Patrick's buddies. Never underestimate word-of-mouth advertizing.

He had resisted any temptation to get more chummy with the frat boys, even though they were keen to have him over for a rerun of the fun night they had all enjoyed last party time. It hadn't been as much fun for Dean, as it turned out, and he kind of thought messing with those types wasn't going to get him anything but a heavy rap sheet in the long run. HE didn't have a wealthy daddy to smooth things over with the PD, and he couldn't rely on Sam to bail him out next time.

As soon as he had finished the job, he would be getting back to work on his Chevy. His new baby was coming along fine and would soon be ready for a road-test and a final tune. Then he would maybe give her a slick new paint job, if he could talk Ludo into giving him a cut rate. He remembered how his dad's Chevy had been sleek and shiny black as burnished jet.

He had decided to stick around in Palo Alto until his car was finished. After that, he wasn't sure what he would do. He had no reason to hang around in California anymore. Not alone. It wasn't like he was taking any classes, even though Sam had encouraged him to. He reckoned he should probably jump in his car and take off.

Maybe he would go back where he had just come from, look up Luis and Julio, see if his old job was still available. Or maybe he would simply drive, forget California, forget Sam, close the book on another sad chapter in his life. He could take to the highways and keep moving, like he and his dad used to do when he was a kid.

Maybe.

But travelling alone wouldn't be the same, not like it had been staring out the passenger window with John behind the wheel. He had dreamed about hitting the road with Sam laughing by his side in shotgun, not solo, not anymore.

He was so caught up in his reverie that he didn't hear Ludo calling his name until his third shout.

"Hey, Dean. Dean? DEAN!" shouted Ludo. "You got a second?"

Ludo was out on the forecourt talking with some guy straddling a motorbike. It wasn't until Dean's eyes had adjusted to the outdoor sunshine that he realized the guy was Dave Mann.

"Freakin' asshole," he muttered under his breath, as he wiped his hands on a rag.

For his part, Mann almost didn't recognize the bandit-style mustachioed figure who walked out of the garage blinking into the sunlight. Dean had succumbed to his workplace's trend toward face fungus. He saw the hirsute look as a visible reclamation of his hetero identity.  
Mann suppressed a chuckle and extended his hand for a shake. When Dean didn't reciprocate, he lunged up from his machine and grabbed the hand hanging by Dean's side, squeezing it in a painful grip.

"You and me need to have us a little chat, my friend," Mann hissed right in Dean's ear, then he turned to Ludo. "Mind if I borrow your pal a couple minutes? Alone?"

Ludo shrugged and went back in the garage, leaving the two guys to talk in private.

~X~

Only when he had watched the other mechanic vanish inside, did Mann released his hold on Dean's hand and begin to speak.

"What kind of an ass would you call yourself, huh?" he demanded.

As much as Dean WAS kind of calling himself an ass right then, he wasn't exactly pleased to hear this from Mann, of all people, the guy who caused him to doubt his relationship and shot holes in his dreams.

"Wise, I reckon," he retorted. "Wise enough to know when to freakin' walk away."

Mann gawped. What was the guy saying? Mann was smart enough to finally work out HIS chance with Sam was long gone. Sam had made it plain that that ship had totally sailed. He shook his head in disbelief.

"You gotta be kidding me," he growled. "You really think there was ever a damn contest?"

Of course Dean took that the wrong way. He exhaled sharply. The swelled head on this guy Mann. So he reckoned Dean never had a chance, huh?

"Figured I coulda made Sam happy," Dean asserted darkly. "But I shoulda never come to Stanford. It's not for me."

Mann shook his head in exasperation. Was this bimbo really that self-absorbed?

"You even read my book? Buddy, you are one blind son-of-a-bitch," he gasped.

Dean could have punched the guy on the nose right there, if it wouldn't have got him fired for sure, and right then he needed to keep his job.

"Where the HELL do you get off talking to me that way?" Dean snarled angrily, taking a step forward.

The bastard! Coming here to gloat about breaking up Sam and him.

Mann grinned. "Thank God at least ONE of us three has the smarts to see what's really going down here," he claimed.

"What?" snapped Dean, defensively. This guy was calling him dumb?

"Not. One. Damn. Thing," answered Mann, emphasizing every word.

"Come again?" Dean was confused. The guy was trying to deny he wanted Sam?

Mann sighed and plopped back down on the seat of his bike, running his hand over his bald head.

"Sam was my best and brightest student. He was my muse. He called me his mentor. I was flattered and I took him under my wing. But... but I guess the time came when he didn't need me anymore and he was ready to fly."

"He told me you packed your freakin' bag and hightailed it to Europe," Dean snapped.

Mann gave a mirthless chuckle. "I let go of him. And, yeah, I kinda hoped he would come back by himself... But he didn't. He found you."

Dean shifted uneasily. "And now you got him back, huh?" he grunted.

Mann flung his arms out in a gesture of resignation.

"There's nothing going on between me and Sam, Dean. Yeah, I made a play for him. God knows I'd do anything to have him back. But nothing doing. He loves you, you dumbass. You!"

"I..." Dean choked slightly on some kind of response to that one. "I don't fit in," he finished weakly.

"YOU don't fit in?! Then freakin' MAKE yourself fit in," retorted Mann. "Buddy, this is not just about YOU. Take your head out your ass and open your eyes. You broke Sam's heart. The poor kid's walking around like a ghost. You gonna man up and make that right?"

Dean's eyes widened. What was the guy saying? He was blaming HIM for this?

"Dude, you're asking for a punch in the face," he warned grimly.

Mann began to laugh out loud. "Boy, you are some piece of work. You gotta let Sam get you into therapy when he takes you back."

And with that he jumped on his Honda and roared away, chuckling as he disappeared up the road.

Dean was left standing there feeling like a scolded kid. He really wished he had gone ahead and landed a punch to the bastard's jaw.

~X~

It was twenty minutes of midnight when Sam's doorbell rang. Having just called to order himself some Chinese food, Sam wasn't particularly surprised. He was surprised, however, by exactly what he found standing on his doorstep.

Dean. With a big bunch of red roses and a bottle of Champagne.

"I, uh, I guess this is how it's done around here," Dean said, sheepishly. "Saying sorry, that is."

Sam stared at him straight-faced for a full five seconds before turning on his heels and going back indoors.

But he left the door open. Dean followed him in his study and stopped just inside the door.

"I, uh, I guess I'll, uh, put these down here, huh?" he said, putting the bottle down on a side table, not sure if he should dump the bouquet or stick it in something.

Or, then again maybe, he should just take his crap and skedaddle?

Sam, who was sitting at his desk again, behind a pile of half finished paperwork, looked up.

"Kitchen," he said. "You remember where to find a vase, huh? And the glasses?"

Dean made a little "ooh" sound. OK so far, he thought hopefully, and he scurried off to the kitchen.

~X~

While Dean was in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors cluelessly like he hadn't been living there just a few weeks before, Sam took the opportunity to compose himself. He had been starting to get used to the idea that Dean intended to stay away for good. That wasn't a notion he was too happy about. In fact it had been driving him nuts.

Meantime, Dave had been so attentive Sam could almost see them getting back together. Almost but not quite. Sam still had options. He could have gone over to Dean's repair place, got down on his knees and begged him to come home. Or he could have knocked the stubborn saphead out cold and dragged him back by his stupid spiky hair. And he was close to ready to try that.

What he hadn't expected was for the guy to show up on his doorstep in the middle of the night. With flowers no less.

And a freakin' beard.

TBC

* * *

A/N: I think I see a little making up on the horizon. More soon.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry I took a bit longer with this update but I got sidetracked by the Doctor Who finale and Eurovision, amongst other things. :)

A/N: Dean has unexpectedly shown up at Sam's (their) house close to midnight with apologetic wine and roses...

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 8) by frostygossamer

* * *

Dean came back to Sam's study a moment later with a cut glass vase, part-filled with water, and two flute glasses. Sam was opening the champagne when he got back. Dean stuck the roses deliberately roughly in the vase, like he didn't want anyone to think he knew the first thing about sissy stuff like flower arranging. Then he hastily abandoned the flowers to hold the glasses out to Sam, just in time to catch the overflow of froth, which dribbled down over his hands. Sam put down the bottle and accepted a glass from Dean. They both knocked back their fizz.

"So," said Dean, not exactly sure what to say next. "Sammy, I..."

Sam had put down his glass and was drying his damp hands on a handful of Kleenex from the desk drawer. He walked over and took Dean's free hand in his, dabbing it dry, eyes intent on what he was doing. When he looked up, still holding Dean's hand, and met Dean's gaze for the first time, Dean noticed that his eyes were glassy with imminent tears.

"Dave came over," Sam whispered. "Told me he gave you a piece of his mind. Told me what you said. How you felt. I, uh, I figured you were angry with me, Dean. Shoulda seen... seen you were struggling. You shoulda talked to me, baby."

Dean let out a sigh of relief. Sam seemed to be taking this pretty well. Maybe he hadn't blown his chances.

"Freakin' Mann," Dean grumbled. "First he tries to break us up. Now he's playing freakin' Cupid? Go figure."

Sam chuckled dryly. "Dave's a chess player," he commented. "Knows when he should resign the game, is all."

He trashed the damp tissues and stepped back, studying Dean's face for a moment before remarking,  
"So, what's with the whiskers? Planning on hiding out in Mexico?"

Dean stroked his bushy stash affectionately. "Trying something new. Looks pretty cool, right?"

"Sure it does," nodded Sam, flopping down in an armchair. "On a gopher."

Dean felt slightly insulted that Sam would compare him to some hairy-assed squirrel.

"It's classy," Dean returned, defensive of his new facial adornment. "Lip thatch is so totally macho."

"Uh-huh," chuckled Sam. "Go tell that to the Village People."

Dean got kind of pouty at that comment, and Sam was suddenly sure that the guy was WAY too adorable to ever let go.

"C'mere," he said, indicating his lap.

Dean put down his empty glass and stepped on over, hesitating a moment before balancing gingerly on Sam's knees. It wasn't exactly a manly position for him, but he wasn't going to argue if Sam was offering an olive branch. He was prepared to submit to anything tonight, whatever would get him back in Sam's affections.

Sam placed one hand on Dean's thigh, sliding the other down his back and under the belt of his jeans.

"Guess we oughta trial run your pet rodent, huh?" he suggested.

Dean took the hint and leaned down, wrapping an arm around his partner's shoulders and bringing their lips together. The kiss was long and sweet. After several lazy seconds, they broke apart and Sam chuckled.

"That critter's gonna take a little getting used to," he said. "Guess we're gonna need more practice."

Dean grinned. "What I was thinking," he agreed, fingers already fiddling with Sam's zipper.

Sam got his message. "You wanna go down for me, baby?" he asked archly.

"Uh-huh," grinned Dean, sliding down onto his knees between Sam's legs. "Reckon it's time I got reacquainted with the big guy downstairs."

Sam shuffled down his pants and underwear, and they were just getting started when the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of the Chinese take-out guy that Sam had totally forgotten about.

Dean froze for a moment, then carefully removed Sam's member from his mouth before whispering, "You wanna get that?"

But Sam was way too turned on by then to care if he never ate again.

"It's the, uh, the Chinese guy," he panted.

Dean's face took on a look of cross-eyed puzzlement. Sam had invited Prof. Lee over?

"The Ch-?" he began.

"Take-out," Sam interrupted.

Dean make a little silent "oh" shape with his lips, which looked so adorable Sam all but swooned.

"God, you look so damn fuckable with that mouth," he gasped.

Dean wriggled his eyebrows. "Kinda what I was going for," he said.

They both relaxed when they heard the take-out guy get back in his van and drive away. Then they got right back to it.

Sam wasn't completely convinced that the sensation of having his genitalia swallowed by a walrus was really his favourite thing, but, hey, he wasn't going to bitch about it. He had taught Dean well, and he could only marvel at what a super-fast learner the guy was for a fellatio-newbie. To think those lips had never so much as touched another guy before they met. The thought made Sam instantly climax.

Dean disengaged and chortled dirtily. "Awesome, huh?" he commented.

Whew! Sam huffed his bangs up off of his face. "C'mon, baby. We gotta get ourselves upstairs like yesterday."

Holding onto his pants with one hand, he grabbed Dean's elbow with the other and dragged him up the stairs.

~X~

From the study chair, they stumbled their way up to their bedroom, manhandling each other out of their clothes all the way.

"Gonna spend all night reclaiming ownership of every freakin' inch of you," Sam whispered hoarsely in Dean's ear. "You been out of my sight way too long, baby."

He swung Dean around and dropped him on his back on the bed, and instead of rolling onto his side to let Sam lay down, like he normally did, Dean just lay there grinning.

"OK, big boy, come claim me," he encouraged.

Sam crawled on top of him. "Dude, no dispute about who's gonna bottom?" he chuckled.

Dean smirked and settled himself comfortably on the pile of pillows.

"Not this time, Sammy," he replied. "Come take me. I'm all yours tonight."

Sam retrieved their little tube of fun from the nightstand. It was almost empty.

"Damn it," he cursed. "Man, I gotta start buying this stuff in bulk."

"And no way is that gonna look deviant," Dean remarked. "There's another tube in the bathroom. Unless you been having fun without me," he added.

"No fun without you, baby," Sam answered, pecking him on the lips before climbing off of the bed and hurrying to the bathroom.

When Sam returned he paused in the doorway a moment to drink in the sight of a naked Dean draped over their bed. Dean stretched out both arms toward him.

"Sammy. Getting cold here," he growled. "C'mere and warm me up, hot stuff."

Sam dove on the bed. He was way up Dean's passage before his mind cleared again.

"Jeez, Sammy," breathed Dean, his head rolling back against the pillows as exquisite spikes of pleasure ran up and down his spine. "If I'da wanned... a baseball bat... up my ass... coulda gone... to a sporting goods store."

"Sorry, baby," Sam whispered, forcing himself to slow down to a gentler rhythm. "That feel better?"

"Ooh, ye-ah," Dean agreed, eyes tight shut. "That's it... Way better... Just how I like it."

Sam chuckled. Dean's dreamy sex-face was so freakin' beautiful. He looked so perfect whenever he finally let go and surrendered himself to a good shafting. Sam felt like he wanted to go on seeing that face forever, and he did try to keep it up as long as he could, but Dean was just so freakin' cumworthy he couldn't hold back.

Dean gave a little girly squeak as Sam released and collapsed on top of him. After a moment Dean coughed, in a more manly register, and demanded to be finished off too.

"You're not the only dick in this bed," he complained.

Sam chuckled and obliged.

Properly satisfied, they were soon both wrapped up in sleep and each other.

~X~

As dawn arrived to find them laying curled up in bed together, Sam's peace was disrupted by a barrage of rumbles from his stomach. He began to wish he had taken in that Chinese food after all. He had to agree with Dean for once, great sex can give you an appetite. The thunderous vibrations had also disturbed Dean a little. He twitched drowsily.

"You hungry, baby?" Sam asked him.

"I'm good," Dean mumbled into his shoulder, too comfortably worn out to bother.

"Well, I'm gonna go down and make me a sandwich. My stomach's being a real bitch," Sam informed him, sliding out of bed.

"I'll take a PB&J," murmured Dean sleepily. "Since you're going downstairs anyways."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Lazy bum," he chuckled fondly.

~X~

Soon as Sam left the room, Dean rolled over into the warm dent the big guy had left in the mattress, humming with delight. It felt so good, being home.

Home. This was the only place Dean had ever felt really at home since his mom had passed.

Oh yeah, there was the place he had shared with Jo when they were together, but that place had been more like a money pit than a home. A mortage. Utility bills. Maintenance costs. The whole thing had seemed like one big burden to him. Something else he constantly worried about failing to provide for. And yet another thing that eventually helped to ruin their relationship. Another reason to walk away.

But this house? This house was Sam's. It went with the job and its upkeep was paid for by WinchesterTech. So no worries. This house was a little corner of heaven. This house was home.

Dean had set out tonight with misgivings. What would Sam say when he showed up on his doorstep? Would Sam deck him soon as he set eyes on the bolter's face? Could Sam even think about taking him back after the way he had behaved? When he had been so stupid?

Fair enough, Dean HAD been determined he was never coming back, that he was going to leave Sam alone to live his life without weighing him down. He had been so sure that was the only right thing to do.

And then Mann had shown up at the repair shop.

It wasn't what Mann had said that made Dean change his mind and backtrack despite his fears. It was simply curiosity. Curiosity that had led to him wondering what Mann had meant by asking if he had read his book. Curiosity that had taken him to the local library to find a copy that he had sat down and read from cover to cover.

It wasn't the theme of the book, or Mann's pearls of personal philosophy. No, it was Dean's overall confirmed impression that Dave Mann was one gold-medal, sterling-silver, copper-bottomed douchebag of the first water, and no way in Hell was Dean going to walk away if it meant leaving Sam in the hands of THAT guy.

So he was back. And Sam was his again. And Mann was toast.

Peachy.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Urbandictionary is the source of some very interesting vocab. ;) I guess this means they're good again. No more problems? Update coming soon.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sam has nipped down to the kitchen with an attack of the munchies...

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 9) by frostygossamer

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sam returned with a plate of sandwiches and the bottle of champagne to finish. He found Dean fast asleep, snoring on his belly, the whiskers of his moustache fluttering on each breath. Sam couldn't help but feel the mousy, frowzled thing was taunting him. It masked his lover's natural beauty and was like hiding the Venus de Milo behind a old piece of burlap. A shameful waste.

Sam couldn't resist it. He tiptoed into the bathroom and returned with a razor, shaving foam and a fluffy towel.

Climbing onto the bed, he eased Dean toward him and pulled his floppy head into his lap. He stroked his lover's beard ever so softly and, though Dean purred quietly in his sleep, the unwitting guy hardly stirred. Encouraged, Sam put a blob of shaving foam in his hand and smoothed it tenderly over Dean's face and neck.

Dean's nose twitched a little, but he went right on sleeping.

Sam continued applying the shaving cream until Dean's loathsome beard was totally covered. Taking the razor, he began to scrape away foam and stubble as gently as he was able. He trailed the blade first over the right cheek, then the left, using feather-light stokes, wiping it on the towel by his side as he went. And he was rewarded by the appearance of familiar, soft, pink, kissable skin.

One time Dean shifted very slightly when Sam accidently pressed the razor a little harder.

Sam stilled his hand for a second, but Dean simply snuffled and snuggled comfortably into his arm without waking. Sam sighed and went on, shaving with infinite care under Dean's nose and around his chin, then removing the scruff under his jaw.

As Sam tilted Dean's head back, exposing his throat, Dean merely sighed and relaxed into his hands.

When he was finished, Sam lovingly rubbed the last of the foam off of Dean's face with the towel, and then set towel and razor down on the night table. Noticing that Dean's eyelids had started to flutter as he hovered close to the edge of sleep, Sam set about massaging Dean's newly baby-smooth face with his fingertips until his lover drifted back into a deep slumber.

Dean began to snore softly, lost in his dreams.

Content at a job well done, Sam took a drink from the open champagne bottle and closed his eyes.

~X~

Sam was making breakfast early next morning, when Dean padded in the kitchen in one of Sam's longer T-shirts and nothing else. He was clutching his hands over his feshly denuded face.

"Bastard!" he said. "How could you?"

Although his voice was loaded with indignation, a laugh threatened to burst out and spoil the effect.

"Don't you mean 'Bastardo'?" Sam teased, putting a rack of hot toast on the table. "Baby, it had to be done. That kissable mouth of yours truly did NOT deserve to be covered up with fuzz."

Dean flopped down on a kitchen chair and buttered himself a slice, gnawing at it hungrily.

"My pride and joy," he griped, through a mouthful of crumbs. "You know how long it took me to grow that freakin' thing?"

"Baby, I know EXACTLY how long," Sam assured him. "Been counting the minutes you been gone."

Dean understood how Sam felt. He had been doing the same. He had thought he would be counting forever.

"Oh well, guess it was a phase anyways," he sighed. "Can live without it."

Sam placed a plate of fluffy eggs, bacon and buttermilk pancakes in front of him.

"Jeez, I hope so," he said. "Don't need to flashback on Hulk Hogan every time we make out."

Dean grinned. "Dude, you only had to ask. Wasn't married to the thing."

Sam's smile barely faltered as he sat down across from him and grabbed some toast.

"You seemed to be into it," he commented. "Thought I'd better step in before you got yourself the matching leather chaps."

Dean didn't laugh. In fact, he seemed to be a little uncomfortable with that comment. He crunched his bacon for a while without a word. Sam was pretty sure he could guess what he was thinking.

"Dean, you do know I'm not into the 'scene'," he said. "And I don't expect you to be either. I'm not an activist. I don't march. And I don't expect you to be 'out and proud' or any such crap. What I want is a regular life, with you. And I love you the way you are."

"A jerk?" Dean wondered aloud.

"Sure. A jerk," agreed Sam, smirking. "And I don't expect you to be any kinda domestic goddess, uh, god. Don't need you to do or be anything to suit me. You just need to be yourself. Macho crap and all."

Dean pondered for a moment. "Does that mean I can go punch Dave freakin' Mann in the gut?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "NO!"

They grew quiet for a few minutes as they finished their meal. Dean noticed Sam looked a little thoughtful. And, when he popped into his office after clearing away their empty plates, Dean wondered what he was up to. Sam returned a moment later with an envelope which he slapped down on the table.

"Came while you were gone," he explained, tersely.

"The hell is this?" Dean asked, kind of surprised.

He could see it was addressed to him, but he couldn't guess who would even know where he was living anymore.

"Open it," ordered Sam.

Dean opened the roughly resealed package and removed a fistful of pages. He ran his gaze over the first sheet and his eyes widened.

"Crap!" he gasped. "From Jo?"

"Yep," confirmed Sam. "Looks like she decided it's time to cut you loose."

Dean shifted awkwardly in his chair. "You DID know about Jo," he said, defensively. "I told you, right?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh you told me, sure. Told me you and she were together. DIDN'T tell me you were freakin' MARRIED. Kinduva big thing to overlook, huh?"

Dean riffled through the pages. "It's only paper," he suggested, hopefully.

Sam exhaled. "Dean, you could have told me you two had gotten married. It's not like you and Jo were still playing house. And, yeah, I do know you told her about me. I called her."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You... called her?"

Somehow the idea of both sides of his life getting together unnerved him a little.

"Sure I called her," Sam repeated. "Called her to tell her you weren't around here anymore. Guessed the reason she filed was about you and me, and I needed to check it out. Maybe Jo had her own plans, but I had to ask her to hold off on the divorce awhile. Reckoned you couldn't handle a break-up AND a divorce at the same time. She was great about it. Said she'd still be there for you if you needed someone. She's a real classy lady."

Dean was touched that Sam and Jo had both worried for him, even after he had let them both down.

"Jo's a sweetheart," he said. "And you're awesome, Sammy. Don't deserve you guys."

Sam growled. "Dude, you make me freakin' mad sometimes. Quit it with the 'I don't deserve' baloney, Dean. That's a heap of crap. You had it hard as a kid. You deserve to be happy, baby."

Dean didn't look convinced. He was used to believing happy endings didn't happen for him.

"I dunno..." he mumbled.

Sam reached across the table and whacked him upside the head, knocking him out of his self-pity.

"Told you quit it," he groused. "Now c'mon. We can grab a shower and then you can drive me to school."

~X~

Up in the bathroom the two guys enjoyed a quick soap and rinse together. Sam moaned with pleasure as Dean scrubbed his back and massive shoulders with a huge natural sponge.

"Jeez, I've missed this. Solo showering is for crap," he declared.

Dean chuckled as Sam turned around and grabbed the sponge off of him, and he pressed his body up tight against the bigger guy.

"You wanna get hot and slippery?" he asked, with a naughty wink.

The feel of Dean's wet soapy skin sliding against Sam's was almost too much to pass on. Sam hesitated an aching second before smushing the foamy sponge in Dean's smug face and striding out, picking up a dry towel as he went.

"Rain check, baby. Got a busy morning ahead. Guess I oughta get moving."

Dean pouted as he turned off the shower and followed him in the bedroom, where he found him already pulling on his shirt.

"Dude, get a shake on," Sam encouraged. "You're gonna drop me off at work, right? Make with the pants. We'll get pulled over if you drive THAT way."

Dean looked down at his naked body and smirked. "Lady cop and we should be free and clear."

Sam grinned as he did up his tie. "Guy cop, might have to slug him for eye-sexing what's mine, baby."

Sam was out of there momentarily. Dean hastily pulled on jeans and T, then ran out and jumped in the SUV. Sam climbed in the passenger seat with a briefcase overstuffed with paperwork. As they pulled away he fished his phone out of his pocket.

"Like I said, I got a busy morning, but I'm gonna free up time to catch a long lunch with my guy," he explained, as he flicked through his contacts. "Gonna call you in sick today. Got something I want you to do."

"Oh?" said Dean, without turning around.

So what did Sam have in mind to keep him busy?

~X~

After dropping Sam off, Dean did as he was told and made his way to the nearest community college. His mission: find himself a class to enrol in.

Dean wasn't exactly keen on the idea of adult education, after all he hadn't finished highschool, what with the constant moving around he and his dad had done. And even though he had eventually scraped himself a GED to help him get a job, he had never had the motivation to do more. John had been of the opinion that life was the best education a man could have, and Dean had never seen the point. It wouldn't have made John any prouder of him.

But learning was Sam's thing and the hopeless nerd had decided, as a kind of a forfeit, Dean should feel the benefit of living in a University town and get himself some sort of an education. Or try at least. Dean knew that Sam didn't exactly expect him to get himself a doctorate, but he thought he should at least show willing by making the effort to find something. He was pretty sure Sam thought it would help him commit to sticking around.

He walked up to the semi-attractive clerk at the desk and flashed her his patent smile. The woman had a cute face but was dressed dowdy and had a stiff and formal manner about her. She deliberately finished what she was doing before turning to Dean and plastering on a professional smile.

"And what can I do for you, sir?" she asked, probably for the millionth time.

"Hi... Uh, I'm looking to enrol in a class. You have a brochure, booklet, whatever?" he faltered.

She studied him over her half-rim glasses for a moment, then waved a hand toward a display of posters and a table piled high with copies of their course catalogs.

"Over there," she pointed out dismissively, and immediately returned to her filing.

Dean wandered over and picked up a catalog. He flicked through the pages uncertainly. He really didn't know where to begin. After hovering there for a few minutes looking confused, he noticed the starchy clerk was giving him a suspicious glare. He decided to come back later.

After visiting a couple more places he soon realized that the local junior and community colleges seemed to offer a bewildering portfolio of classes. Dean felt overwhelmed and couldn't make up his mind what he should go for.

He decided to take a break and made his way to the diner where he had arranged to meet up with Sam, soon as the guy broke for lunch.

TBC

* * *

A/N: I hope I'm not too far out with the community college stuff in this story. I'm British so I'm basing it on a British technical college, more or less. Apologies if I get things wrong. The class Dean's going for will be sort of a hobby class so I'm assuming he wouldn't need formal quals.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Sam wanted to send Dean back to school, but was it such a great idea?

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 10) by frostygossamer

* * *

Sam charged down the hall to the lecture room, checking his watch as he went. He was a couple minutes late. His students would be getting antsy. As he stomped along, a door opened into the hall and Dave Mann stepped out in front of him with a cute freshman close on his heals.

"Ooh-ya," Sam gasped, stopping himself just in time.

"Ah, Sam," said Mann. "So you've decided to show up after all. I was about to go sub your class myself."

A grin appeared on Sam's face. "No need," he said. "Right here and ready to go."

Mann raised an eyebrow. "You OK?" he asked, surprised by Sam's radical change of mood since they last met.

"Perfect," answered Sam, firmly. "Never been better."

Mann's brows knitted together. "He's back, right?" he hazarded.

"You betcha," Sam responded happily.

He left Mann shaking his head as he steamed off to class.

Mann wasn't sure how he felt. Honestly, it was hard for him to know he had helped to get his ex back with someone else. Sam would never know how much it had hurt his pride to do the right thing. Hard-nosed though he might be, Mann would always be attached to Sam. But...

He turned to the adoring youth standing beside him.

"See that guy," he told him. "Used to be my star pupil. Now he's a millionaire. Stick with me, kid, and in a couple years that could be you."

~X~

When Sam entered the diner at quarter of one, he spotted Dean immediately. He was sitting in a corner booth at the back cradling a black coffee, the table littered with flashy-coloured brochures. Sam walked over and flopped down across from him.

"So you found something?" he observed.

Dean sighed and shook his head. "Dunno where to start," he griped.

Sam picked up a random catalog and ran an eye over it.

"Guess you oughta go with something hands-on to begin with. You're pretty good with your hands, baby."

Dean grinned cheekily. "These hands can work magic, Sammy boy," he chuckled.

"And don't I know it," agreed Sam, with a wink. "Start with what you know. Easiest way is to build on what you already got."

Dean grumbled. "Beginning to think I don't know nothing about crap," he complained defeatedly, laying back in his seat and sighing.

Sam shook his head. "Sure you do. You know plenty about... CARS."

"'Course I do. Dude, I'm a mechanic," Dean snapped. "And a damn fine one too."

Sam chuckled. "OK then. Where can you get into a class in automechanics. Good place to start."

"But I already know everything there is to know about freakin' automechanics," Dean griped.

"Then you're gonna ACE it," reasoned Sam. "Here." He turned to the page for a class called 'Advanced Vehicular Maintenance' and plonked it in front of Dean. "How about this?"

Dean gave the page the once over. "Sure. Sounds OK. Guess I could handle this."

"Fine. That's settled," said Sam, sweeping the chaff off of the table into a pile. "Now whaddya wanna order? I'm buying."

Dean's answer was predictable. "Need to ask? Bacon cheeseburger, dude."

~X~

For the following couple weeks Dean was on his best behaviour. He was home with Sam again, and that felt good. Living in a motel sounds like fun until you have to do it for weeks on end. By yourself. He wasn't going to jeopardize things again any time soon. And he needed to show Sam he was with the plan.

He went back to Ludo at the garage to check that the guy was OK with him going back to part-time. He would need to be flexible around Sam's work hours. And he was really going to need all his energy in the evenings, if he was going to keep Sam sweet.

Dean didn't know if his abrupt flip-flop would piss off the repair shop boss, but Ludo was easy with it.

"Sure," he said. "Paying you by the hour anyways. Why the change of mind? Boyfriend bitching?"

Dean flinched. Now, he had carefully never mentioned his sexuality or living arrangements to him or Jules, so he guessed that he had to be snarkily referring to that visit by Mann.

"That damn dickbag is so NOT my freakin' boyfriend!" he retorted in disgust, then after a second he recklessly added, "Uh, he's my boyfriend's boss."

There. He had admitted it. He had a boyfriend. Sam would be proud.

"Whatever," Ludo remarked airily and wandered away, completely underwhelmed.

Dean would have liked to see more surprise on the guy's face. He was a little disappointed by the lack of reaction. Heck, HE had been more surprised. And he would never have figured Ludo for a liberal.

~X~

Thursday morning, Dean turned up at the community college where his chosen class would be held in plenty time. He stopped a young girl who came staggering across the lobby with a heavy pile of photocopying.

"This the right place for the Advanced Vehicular Maintenance class?" he asked her.

He figured Sam was right that it made sense to start simple. Although there wasn't a whole lot he didn't know about maintaining motor vehicles, he reasoned that it wouldn't hurt to get himself an actual attendance for his résumé. The nomadic life he and his dad had led when he was a kid meant he was embarrassingly lacking in paper. And he was living with a guy who had diplomas up the wazoo, so...

The girl, who had been holding the top sheet on her pile with her chin, glanced up and grinned on seeing a handsome face beaming at her.

"Yeah, sure," she agreed. "Starts in, uh, ten minutes. You're right on time."

She pointed out the correct door and hurried on her way before Dean could ask anything else.

Dean walked in the room and glanced around. A dozen or so young guys and a couple boyish chicks where already settled in, chatting away and laughing in noisy groups. Dean got his eye on an empty chair beside a busty babe about his own age who was practically poured into her black leather pants.

Chick looked like fun.

~X~

It was Dean's turn to make dinner that night again, so he picked up groceries on the way back. When Sam came home, it was to find him in the kitchen, singing Metallica to a spoon-mic. Not so tuneful maybe, but certainly joyful.

"You sound... up," Sam said. "Class fun?"

"You betcha," Dean replied, archly, standing by the stove. "Italian OK for you?"

"Fine," agreed Sam, coming up behind him to wrap his long arms around Dean's waist.

As Dean dropped pasta shapes into a pan of boiling water, the big guy kissed his lover on the back of the neck and chuckled.

"Anything you like is fine with me, baby," he said.

"Yeah sure, man," Dean agreed, with a laugh. "Anything I wanna make. Considering I been running my ass off all day and you been sitting behind a damn desk."

"...working hard," Sam added. "You reckon educating a howling pack of sophomores is easy?"

Dean shook his head affectionately. "Dude, go lay the table," he commanded.

Sam kissed him again on the ear and complied with the order. Dean watched him straighten the tablecloth and lay out silverware.

"Totally freakin' domestic," he thought, with a grin.

He loved to watch Sam engaged in regular domesticity. It rubbed in how their relationship was normal, natural, real. It was one of the reasons, at least when they were home alone, Dean had no problem with their set-up. Living with another guy was simple. None of that 'Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus' crap. He and Sam were best buddies with benefits, excellent benefits. No, it was other people's opinions that worried Dean.

Over their pasta, Dean communicated how his class had been.

"So? Was it... good? OK?" Sam asked, doubtfully.

"It was freakin' awesome," Dean answered with enthusiasm, mouth full of farfalle.

"Oh, really?" Sam responded, kind of surprised. "You enjoyed it? Hafta admit I'm kinda surprised. I'm guessing the instructor wasn't a douche after all?"

"The teacher was totally awesome," Dean agreed. "Guy was a natural. Never seen a teacher teach class so... awesomely."

Sam felt a tiny twinge of jealousy, seeing how turned on his guy was getting over some community college blackboard jockey. What did this guy have that he didn't?

"So you'll be back next week?" he asked.

"Hell yeah. Gonna be there front and centre," agreed Dean. "No problemo."

~X~

Sam had reckoned that getting Dean back into school would keep his roving mind occupied, instead of just his muscle-brain. Maybe keep him out of trouble when he wasn't around. Although, he pretty much expected Dean's initial zest for adult education would have waned before the month was out.

However, to Sam's amazement, Dean continued to attend the community college every Thursday like clockwork. Whenever Sam casually inquired how things were going, Dean would effuse about the quality of the teaching, not something Sam would have expected from him. Dean had always held that the 'School of Hard Knocks' was his alma mater and the best education for a regular non-nerd like him. Sam chose not to take that personally.

After a few weeks, Sam started to get curious. What exactly was Dean up to at this class? One Thursday afternoon he left Stanford early and swung by the community college, to surprise Dean by picking him up in the SUV instead of letting him catch the bus home as he usually did. He arrived a couple minutes after the class was scheduled to end.

Walking through the building's main entrance, Sam collared a couple kids who gave him directions to the Advanced Vehicular Maintenance class. He strode along the hall to Room 10 chuckling at the prospect of surprising his partner. Quite a crowd of chatty adult students passed him on their way out.

"Looks like it's been one popular class," Sam noted. "Guess Dean wasn't fooling about the instructor's awesomeness."

Then, as he rounded the final corner, he spotted something that made him take a step back and peer around the wall surreptitiously. Dean was standing in the hall outside Room 10, deep in animated conversation with a well endowed female in tight leather pants and a low-cut rock band shirt. Dean was smiling his sexy number and the woman was rubbing up against him like an over-friendly cat.

"The hell?!" thought Sam. "So that's why Dean's been so into this class. He hooked up!"

"OK. See ya," Dean told the chick, then in a low huskier voice. "And remember, Babycakes, don't let those freakin' b-words grind you down."

Babycakes?! Dean called her Babycakes?! Shocked and confused, Sam turned on his heels and left the building.

Unaware that he had been seen, Dean finished his conversation with 'Miss Leather' by wishing her goodnight. Grinning, she playfully slapped him on the butt as he turned away.

"Backatcha, Deano," she said, with a sexy little laugh.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Poor Sam. Dean is playing havoc with his nerves yet again.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Did Sam catch Dean getting flirty? (I was all ready to post this last night and then my internet went out. Grrr!)

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 11) by frostygossamer

* * *

Sam didn't say anything to Dean when he got home. To begin with, he didn't really know what to say. He had only gotten his partner back not long before. The last thing he wanted was to split up AGAIN, but how could he ignore seeing what he had seen? How could he stop himself reading more into it? Dean, a sexy chick, a cheeky smile, all added up to something Sam didn't want to think about. Break-up.

The problem was, if Dean had been simply gay and had gotten friendly with some chick, Sam wouldn't have needed to worry. And if Dean had picked up another guy, he would have known what to do: steam around to his place and break his damn neck. Not really. Well, maybe really.

But Dean wasn't gay. He was bi. And it wasn't just a pose he adopted because he couldn't commit to being 'queer'. Sam could see it everyday in his eyes, or more exactly, in where his eyes lingered. On pretty AND handsome faces. On curvy AND hard bodies. No, Dean wasn't like Sam.

Sam had never had any real doubts about himself. He had always been gay. Once he had gotten over adolescence, he hadn't had too much trouble accepting it. He really didn't have an alternative. Dean could choose. He could have been perfectly happy with the right woman. If Sam hadn't come along, he would almost certainly have continued along the straight path and never strayed over the fence. This relationship they had was a big deal for Dean. A very big deal.

It didn't seem fair, but Sam was painfully aware he had real competition from BOTH 'teams'. How was he supposed to compete with a woman? And a woman with great boobs at that. She had been so getting into Dean's space. And Dean had been liking it. He could so easily decide to go back to what he knew.

Sam decided to wait until the weekend, find a good moment to face Dean with what he had seen and get the truth out of him one way or another. He wasn't looking forward to hearing whatever Dean would choose to say for himself.

~X~

Friday morning they were both in a hurry to get going. Sam was sitting at the table eating waffles loaded with an organic raspberry jelly. Dean was scoffing his as he leaned against the counter, flicking through a magazine.

Sam had gotten a glance at it. It had photos of scantily clad chicks in bikinis and guys in tight Speedos posing with boards. Semi-porn, he judged.

"Won't stop you getting fat," Sam remarked. "Standing up to eat."

Dean pouted and patted his belly.

"No flab on this caboose," he insisted. "'Work hard, stay trim,' Dad used to say."

Sam had to admit that Dean's outline was particularly fine. He hated to think that someone else could have been running their filthy thieving hands over that perfect musculature. And it bothered him that Dean couldn't sit down and enjoy a peaceful moment with him.

Suddenly Dean's cell phone went off on the counter. He grabbed it up quickly, checked the name and popped out the door before Sam could ask who was calling.

Sam raised an eyebrow. Who would be calling Dean at this time in the morning? He finished his waffles and followed the sound of Dean's voice to his study. Pausing outside, he listened.

"So turned on for this, baby. Need to be soon, yeah? Can't wait," Dean hissed into the mouthpiece of his cell.

Sam inhaled silently. Dean was talking to some woman. THAT freakin' woman!

~X~

Later that morning, back at WinchesterTech, Rachel's schedule had been hectic since the moment she arrived. She hadn't realized how much of the burden of running the company Sam had shouldered when he was around. He was a big miss since he had move to the West Coast. Even with Bobby around to help out, she badly needed a break.

She was more than ready for a caffeine fix. So she grabbed a coffee from the staff kitchen on the way back to her office and settled down at her desk to quickly scan her personal email.

Top of the list was a new communication from her best friend and erstwhile boss, Sam. Chuckling, she fired off a reply which bounced straight back with a simple "Let's go to Skype." Rachel logged into her Skype account and soon her screen was filled by Sam's familiar face.

"Hi, Rach," he greeted her.

"Hi there, Sam," she responded. "How's things in sunny California?"

Sam groaned. "So-so. How about there?"

Rachel beamed and waved the back of her left hand in front of her webcam.

"You never got to see the REAL ring, Sam. Shame you had to miss our big engagement party."

Rachel's engagement ring was a tasteful band sporting a diamond flanked by two sapphires. Must have cost that guy Dan a bundle. But then dentistry always was a lucrative racket.

"Down on one knee in front of everyone," Rachel chuckled. "Sam, you're not the only one with romantic tendencies."

Sam knew what she meant, the day he got on HIS knees ON A BUS to beg Dean to give him a chance.

"Romance isn't everything," he sighed.

Rachel grew concerned. "Things not going so well between you two?" she asked. "Wanna talk about it?"

Sam's expression turned a little sad. "Dean is a lovely guy. He really is. Body and soul. And I'm very lucky we met. Totally. But the guy is hard work. It's like living with an unexploded grenade. Feel like any moment something bad is gonna go off."

"Sounds exciting," Rachel commented.

"Some things can be TOO exciting," Sam complained. "I'd settle for humdrum any day, humdrum and reliable."

Rachel laughed. "No you wouldn't," she objected. "You love him that way."

Sam gave a snort but then nodded. "Sure," he agreed. "I love him."

That thought hung in the air for a moment until Rachel broke the silence.

"Anyways, we're talking dates," she told him. "Dan's up in Canada at some conference next month but, after that, you and Dean better keep your diary free."

"If there even is a 'me and Dean' by then," grumbled Sam. "I'm sure he's planning something. Dunno what. He can be a secretive bastard sometimes."

Rachel gave an awkward cough. "I'm, uh, I'm sure it's nothing," she commented quickly. "Sorry. Gotta go now. Bobby's calling. We'll talk again soon. Bye," and she terminated the call.

Logging out of Skype, Sam looked around for something to make a note to himself. He noticed that his large desk diary was closed, which was odd because he normally kept it open at the current day. Shrugging, he flipped forward a month and, at the top of the page, pencilled in "Wedding? Rachel."

He wondered if it was just him or was EVERYBODY acting shifty.

~X~

Dean noticed that Sam had been very quiet all through dinner. He had brought home a Clint Eastwood box set, but there wasn't as much as a peep out of Sam while Dean recited all the dialogue, mimed the action sequences and copied the orang-utan's facial expressions. Sam just wasn't in the mood.

By the time they wound up in bed for the night, Dean had gotten curious.

"Dude, you haven't said two freakin' words all night," he commented. "Everything cool at school?"

"Sure," replied Sam, turning over away from him with a sigh. "Everything's peachy."

Dean looked down at him. He could see Sam obviously wasn't happy about something. But he knew sensitive Sam could get that way so easily, and Dean wasn't exactly the guy for heart-to-hearts about feelings and emo stuff like that. When HE had gotten that way his dad would just tell him to "Suck it up, kid," but somehow he didn't think that approach would go down well with his partner. He gave Sam's shoulder an uncertain squeeze.

"Got a surprise lined up for next week," he said quietly.

Sam didn't respond. He was getting kind of scared of Dean's surprises.

Dean gave up and lay down, flicking off the light.

In the darkness he added, as if to himself, "Be great to step on the gas and see where the road takes me."

Sam shivered. Dean was planning to leave.

~X~

When Saturday morning dawned, clear Californian sunshine spilling in through the curtains onto the floor of their bedroom, Sam yawned and stretched. His eyes flew open when he registered that he was all alone in their bed.

"Dean?!" he called out. No reply.

Sam lay there and tried to empty his mind, but it wouldn't work. He was going to have to get up and go sort things out. His nerves were shot to pieces by Dean's ridiculous behaviour and he had spent the night wallowing in his own unhappiness, but it was time he pulled himself together and got the truth out of his weasel-assed partner.

He would go confront Dean and, if Dean admitted to having a fling with this bitch, he could take it. Maybe he would have to accept that Dean was sometimes going to hanker after the touch of a woman, some hot honey who would press him up against the blackboard.

But it had better be meaningless, and he had better come home to Sam nights, because there was only so much leash Sam could let out. He was damned if he was going to let Dean go again without a fight.

Pulling on a loose T-shirt over his boxers he checked out the empty bathroom and paused at the top of the stairs to listen below. No sounds from the kitchen.

"Damn it, Dean," he growled. So the guy had skipped already?

~X~

Sam padded downstairs and into the kitchen. Coffee was brewing in the coffeemaker but there was no sign of Dean. He was resignedly considering whether he should search the house for another goodbye note, maybe check his cell phone to see if he had been dumped by text, when he heard a metallic clang from outside.

Someone was in the garage. He opened the door connecting from the kitchen and looked out.

Dean, dressed only in a pair of provocatively tight jeans, was polishing his Chevy with a shammy and great dollops of love. The vehicle's shiny black paint job shone like burnished jet.

When he heard the door open behind him he turned toward Sam, his face sunny with childlike joy.

"Ta-da!" he sang. "Surprise, Sammy!"

Sam was taken aback. So THIS was the surprise Dean had been talking about last night?

"You, uh, got her up and running, huh?" he stammered.

"Like you ever needed to doubt me," Dean retorted mock-defensively.

Oh, Sam doubted him but for lots of other reasons. He stepped into the garage and scrutinized the car more carefully.

"Looks good," he pronounced.

"Looks good and runs good," Dean agreed triumphantly. "What sweat and a mechanically skilful brain can do. And a little spare cash didn't hurt. Some of the parts WERE kinda pricy."

Dean opened the driver's door and got in behind the wheel.

"Told you, you should charge 'em," Sam remarked, climbing into the passenger side.

"Charge them? No sir," returned Dean, offended. "She's MY baby, Sam. Saved my shop wages and tips. And earned myself a little extra on the side. Got my angles."

"How 'on the side'?" Sam asked, chuckling. "You been pool sharking or hustling or..." His mind went straight back to that yummy-looking rock chick he had seen Dean getting friendly with. "Dude, tell me you HAVEN'T been hustling?!"

Dean had to laugh. "Dude, even I got my limits."

Sam huffed. "OK then. Know you're dying to tell me. You got a mystery benefactress?"

The moment he said it he wished he hadn't. What if he had hit the nail on the head? What if Dean's new lady friend had bankrolled the Chevy because they were going to drive out of Sam's life in it? Perhaps Dean was just breaking the news to him gently.

"You could say that," answered Dean archly.

Sam's heart sank. This was it then? Dean was going to announce that he was leaving. Again. This time for good? That was so NOT going to happen.

He slid across the seat and grabbed Dean by the scruff of his neck, catching him unawares. Dean protested for all of a nanosecond before melting into Sam's urgent kiss.

"Baby, you're not going anyplace with that rock chick bitch," Sam growled in his ear.

A dazed Dean could only murmur, "Nuh-uh, Sammy."

TBC

* * *

A/N: So what IS Dean up to? More soon.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: They're still making out in the Impala...

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 12) by frostygossamer

* * *

When Sam eventually allowed Dean to take a breath, Dean released the handful of Sam's T-shirt he had been clutching, leaned back in his seat and whistled.

"Whoo-hoo, Sammy. You SURE got out of bed on the RIGHT side this morning."

Dean was acting way too pleased with himself about all this. Couldn't he see how desperate Sam was feeling? Sam so wanted to be angry with the guy but every damn time Dean defused his very reasonable temper with that irresistible smirk of his. How was Sam supposed to get past that?

He growled softly. "You get me so freakin' riled sometimes, Dean. Does everything you do got to be a secret? Didn't you promise me there'd be no more assing around?"

"No assing around," Dean swore, holding up his hands. "Dude, there's one BIG difference between keeping secrets and surprises, dude. Life would be pretty damn tame with no surprises."

"Tame but stressless," Sam commented. "Man, you got me all wrong way round and upside down."

Dean snickered. "Love you upside down, Sammy. Fact is, I love you any position you wanna try."

Sam wasn't so easily smoke screened by the naughty images Dean put in his head. He had made his mind up to get Dean talking. The sexual innuendo could wait.

"Need more, Dean," he insisted. "You gotta spill the beans before I get off of your case this time."

Dean winked at him cheekily. "OK, dude. But first, gotta fill you in with a little back-story on what happened when I showed up for class."

"First day of class?"

"Uh-huh."

~X~

It had been well over a decade since Dean had graced any a place of education with his presence. It was just his luck that things didn't go as expected.

First off, the guy leading the class turned out to be a substitute. The scheduled instructor guy had dropped out at the last minute and left the class hanging. The college needed a last minute replacement and they wound up practically grabbing some schmo off of the street.

Still, as it turned out, the class went surprisingly well. Having really no idea how to lead a class of adult learners, the guy elected to go for a casual approach. He was only taking this one period, what harm could he do? He decided to fill in the hour with a bunch of hilarious anecdotes from his many years in auto-repair. There were stories about obstinate vehicles with minds of their own and tales of bull-headed and ridiculously ignorant owners. Apparently, he had had a lifetime of such things.

At first he seemed a little self-conscious standing in the front of class, the centre of everyone's attention, but as the hour progressed he relaxed and got really into it. The students lapped him up. By the end of the period, he had his students, down-to-earth working stiffs like himself, hanging on his every word.

When the class was over and the students started filing out of the room, the chick in leather-pants from the back row pushed through the exodus to grab his arm.

"That was awesome," she enthused, grinning. "I'd never have guessed you were a last minute sub, honey. I came along to audit this class expecting some dry-as-dust lecture on sparkplugs. You made the entire class come alive. Sweetheart, you're a natural."

She gave his arm a little squeeze and snuggled up to him.

"I work for the college," she explained. "You might call me the paymaster here. I hire and fire the part-time talent. Personal enrichment classes mostly. The guy who couldn't get his sorry ass in here tonight has basically always been a flake. His ass is dust. You want his gig you got it."

Of course the guy was flattered, so he said, "OK. I'm in."

~X~

Dean finished his explanation and turned to Sam in the shotgun seat with a grin that looked, to Sam, suspiciously proud.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Sam demanded. "Only YOU could go enrol in a class and wind up leading it. Am I right?"

It seemed totally off-the-wall, but Sam knew he should have guessed Dean would never gave that big a write-up to anyone but himself.

"You got me," Dean admitted.

Well, that explained a lot. Dean had been actually training people on this automechanics course not just showing up to act interested about stuff he already knew. Sam wondered why he had never thought of suggesting that himself. And then he remembered, it was the thought of students with naughty designs on teacher. They happened. Hell, he had been one of them.

He should have known Dean would make a great teacher. That was another thing he shared with Sam's ex. He knew how to inspire people. It reminded Sam of Mann when he was younger and more idealistic. Shame Mann had lost that over the years. He had grown cold inside while Dean was filled with an internal fire. Sam loved that about him.

"You wanna know exactly how it went down?" asked Dean.

Sam nodded. Dean seemed keen to bask in his moment of glory, and he had asked for the facts, after all.

~X~

When Dean entered the Advanced Vehicular Maintenance class and spotted that the amply bosomed lady he was later to know as Babycakes had an empty chair right beside her, he decided that would do for him. Before he could cross the short distance, however, his elbow was grabbed by an earnest middle-aged woman.

"Perfect," she gasped. "You're just in time. I was beginning to think I was gonna have to take this one myself. I may be 'Crafts' but this is a bit beyond me. Knitting and quilting more my thing."

Dean must have looked perplexed because her expression became more worried.

"You're the substitute, right?" she demanded, anxiously.

Dean took a breath, ready to deny her assumption, then he suddenly thought, "Why the hell not?" He probably knew more about this topic than the regular instructor anyways. Maybe he COULD give it a whirl. How hard could it be? The poor worn-out woman looked like she needed some a help and Dean was ever the hero. He couldn't abandon any female in distress.

"Sure," he answered. "That's me." That was the reckless kind of guy he was.

The woman sighed in relief. "Thank heavens," she said, glancing at her watch as she turned and rushed out of the room. "The rest of the class should be here anytime."

Dean flinched. Rest of the class? How many freakin' students had signed up for this damn class anyways? What had he innocently agreed to?

As it happened, Dean needn't have worried. As Sam had phrased it, he ACED it.

~X~

As he sat beside Dean in his lovingly repaired Impala, Sam's face was a picture.

"I've brought forth a freakin' monster," he remarked, feigning a groan.

Dean had to laugh, so he did.

"Dude, this teaching gig is a piece of freakin' cake," he chuckled. "Dunno why you guys make it out such a dark freakin' art."

"So you took the class," Sam summarized, amazed. "Didn't I hear you say teaching was as mug's game?"

Dean preened. "Not when the teacher is THIS freakin' awesome."

Sam shook his head. "Only you, man," he muttered. "Only you could go sign up as a student and wind up a professor."

"Dude, it was totally NOT my fault this time," Dean insisted. "The guy scheduled to take the class didn't show. I got kinda press-ganged into it. But it was a breeze. Had them hanging on my every freakin' syllable."

Dean's face was radiant with his newfound achievement.

"Oh, yeah?" asked Sam, now smiling. "Great feeling, huh?"

"You said it," Dean agreed. "So every Thursday I been leading that damn class like a pro. Eat your heart out, Dave freakin' Mann. Dumb muscle-brain, huh?"

"I never thought you were dumb, Dean," Sam said, patting his knee.

"Not YOU, Sam," Dean allowed. "But I seen the looks I got from your college buddies. They think I'm just some hot body you hooked up with. Man, there's so much more to ME than they'll ever know."

"I know it," Sam nodded. "You got plenty smarts, baby. All you needed was the nerve to get out there and swank it. And it looks like you found it."

"Hey, can't hide this kinda awesomeness forever," Dean agreed.

OK, so much explained. But what about the stacked 30-something rocker babe in the clingy outfit? What did she think she was doing getting all up in Sam's guy's face? Sam had to know.

"And the chick you called Babycakes?" he asked nervously. "Seemed to be getting pretty up close and personal with her."

"Oh, sure," Dean shrugged. "That chick likes to get pretty hands on with ALL the guys. Trust me, there was one guy taught needlework, she was the same with him. She's the money. Was only tryna keep her sweet."

"Sweet enough for pet names?" Sam demanded, suspiciously.

"Pet names? No, no. Chick goes by Babycakes all the time. Go figure. She was in some half-assed metal band and the name stuck. Ask anyone."

"Huh," mumbled Sam, not 100 percent convinced.

Dean smiled at him. "Jealous? Oh, Sammy, why'd I want a freakin' seven-at-best when I got a ten at home?"

He scooched over and planted a kiss on Sam's lips. Sam wanted to believe Dean. And what was more important he could see that Dean wanted Sam to believe him. That was some relief anyways.

"So you're not going anywhere?" Sam asked.

Dean gave him a strange look. "Not this week," he replied.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"NOW," said Dean, effectively ending the conversation. "You want breakfast? Or you want me to try and turn you right way round and downside up? Any which way you wanna go, big boy."

Sam exhaled, letting go the tightness in his shoulders a little.

"Wanna test the new suspension, huh?" he asked innocently.

"Uh-huh," Dean agreed. "Chevy handles real smooth. Let's see if I can handle you so good."

Sam sank back into the warm leather seat, lifting his ass to wriggle down his boxers.

"Sure, baby," he said. "Why not?"

He could do with a little release of tension.

Dean pulled off his jeans and straddled Sam's lap. He bobbed forward and laid a kiss on Sam's mouth, rolling his hips to rub their junk together. Sam hummed with the feel of him.

"God," he whispered. "I love it when you do that."

Dean smirked down at him, his eyes twinkling.

"And don't I know it," he said.

As Sam closed his eyes, he heard Dean open the glovebox and rummage inside for something.

"Put some in here for sure," Dean mumbled. "Ah, here it is."

"You keep lube in the glovebox?" guessed Sam.

"Now I do," chuckled Dean. "This baby's a sex machine."

Sam felt his lover anoint him piously and then gasped as his poker-hard member slid into the warm place that was Dean.

They gave the suspension a real thorough test that morning.

And it was fine.

TBC

* * *

A/N: OK, so Dean has explanations, but they don't explain everything... More soon.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Life settles down and Sam thinks his worries are over. But are they?

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 13) by frostygossamer

* * *

A few weeks later, Sam was looking forward to a restful weekend as he packed up his briefcase and switched off his laptop ready to go home. He was grabbing the opportunity to take off a little early. It had been a long day but he left college in a good mood. Things had been going great at home since Dean had come clean about his community college job.

Dean was settling into a regular routine, working three afternoons a week at the garage and one morning at the college. It left him Fridays free to do whatever he wanted and the weekend to spend with Sam. Two days of domestic bliss. Life, Sam thought, was perfect.

Dean was in a good place these days and Sam had no reason to regret taking him back. Not that he ever could. Dean was fun when he wasn't trouble, and it made Sam's heart rejoice just having the guy in his life. When he considered how happy Dean made him, Sam reckoned he knew why love was invented.

Sam unlocked the SUV and popped in his laptop and briefcase. There were only two small niggles floating around in his mind. One he had forgotten about till then. He was sure he had glimpsed Dean stowing a couple duffel bags in the trunk of his Impala that morning. What was that all about? He made a mental note to quiz Dean about it later. The other was dinner. Should he pick up some take-out on the way home?

He got in the driver's seat and started the engine. Before he pulled out, he took his cell phone from his pocket and keyed in Dean's number. Dean answered after a few rings.

"Hi, Sam," he said, his tone a little clipped. "What? You finished already?"

"Yeah, sure. Got away early," Sam confirmed. "Just calling to ask what take-out I should pick up."

There was a pause before Dean answered. "Don't worry about that," he said. "May be eating late. We, uh, I'll get us something later."

Sam assumed Dean must still be at home, but then, in the background, he heard a familiar tannoy announcement. He recognized it immediately. A San Francisco International boarding announcement.

"You at the airport?" he demanded.

Dean inhaled. "I, uh, well-"

"Damn it, Dean," Sam snapped. Turning abruptly across traffic, he headed towards San Francisco International. "Dude, you better not be skipping out on me again."

Why had he believed Dean when he had sworn he wasn't stepping out on him? Because he wanted to. That's why. Because he NEEDED to.

"Hell no-" Dean's protest was cut off as Sam flung his phone on the seat to concentrate on his driving.

Sam put his foot down and roared up Route 101, driving like a man possessed, his mind in turmoil. He should have known. He really should. Dean got so much female attention he couldn't expect him to be immune to it. Poor schmuck couldn't help it. But he could have TRIED...

Next thing Sam knew he was pulling up outside the airport. He leaped out of his vehicle and stormed into the terminal building, face like thunder.

What exactly did he think he was going to do? How was he going to stop Dean and that... ho he was with jumping on an airplane and disappearing from his life forever? He stomped up to the nearest Security Desk, elbowing his way to the front of the line.

"I wanna report a desperate fugitive," he bellowed at the two overly painted young women manning the desk.

They quailed in fear at the sight of such a big guy stoked up with rage.

Before the words were out of Sam's mouth, a couple huge uniformed guys had grabbed him by the arms and marched him off to a private interview room. He was seated at a table and left alone for all of two seconds before a tall, sharply suited guy with a professional smile entered the room and sat down across from him.

"So you want to report a desperate fugitive?" he drawled, raising one eyebrow. "Sir, that's a very serious matter."

~X~

Dean had to admit to himself he was a little disappointed that Sam had caught on to his surprise so soon. He had been hoping to call him later and have him drive out to meet them at the hotel where he had booked a luxury suite. He had packed for him and Sam the day before and stowed their bags in his Chevy that morning. He had been planning everything for weeks.

Sam hadn't been himself lately, for reasons Dean refused to blame only on himself. Overwork, he assumed. And Dean had decided what the guy really needed was a break. A few days at the beach would be perfect. He and Sam hadn't spent time at the ocean since they had moved to California. Dean had remembered the surfer chicks they had met on their move. He had always wanted to try his hand at surfing and he guessed it would be therapeutic for Sam too.

When Sam had noticed him with a surfer magazine he had thought the guy might have gotten wise. But no. So he had called the number he had been given by Tamera, the girl whose RV he had been 'abducted' in on the journey over. Tamera was a keen surfer and Dean reckoned she would be the perfect go-to person for a surfer newbie. She had been delighted to hear from him.

It had turned out Tamera was at loose ends. She offered to fly out to the coast, hang out and give them the benefit of her esoteric surfer wisdom with a few lessons. Dean agreed without even stopping to think. He didn't figure Sam would mind Tamera coming along, as long as they got plenty of alone time. All they needed was a fourth wheel to pal up with Tamera while he and Sam were enjoying romantic times together. That little problem had been soon sorted out.

Tamera's flight had just gotten in, and she and Dean were taking her luggage to his car when Dean's cell buzzed in his pocket. Dean had hoped to get away with pretending he was at the garage, but fate would have it that an unfortunate tannoy message had to burst that bubble. He had tried to tell Sam everything was cool, but Sam had hung up, and he was apparently ignoring his call-back.

"Damn," said Dean. "Trust the guy to call at precisely the wrong freakin' moment."

"Everything OK," asked Tamera, noticing his concerned frown.

"Sure," replied Dean. "Let's get this stuff in the car. Sam's gonna be here in a half hour, or maybe less."

~X~

Once Airport Security had established that the 'fugitive' Sam wanted to report wasn't some dangerous terrorist on the loose but simply an errant partner, they lost interest. In fact, they were quite sore about him wasting their precious time.

"By rights I should charge you with causing a disturbance on airport property, and hand you over to SFPD," the Security suit had told Sam.

But luckily the guy wasn't entirely unsympathetic. And he had already wasted too much of his career on pointless idiots like Sam to want to bother with the official paper storm his arrest would have generated.

"I'm gonna assume you're just some harmless fool. THIS time," he explained. "Although, frankly, I would have guessed a Stanford professor would have had the brains to know better than try to pull something like this."

Sam shrugged. He was still seething inside, but he had the sense to realize getting in trouble with the law wasn't going to help the situation.

"Thanks," he said.

They paged Dean, who was more than surprised to hear his name called. What had he done now?

Once he had introduced himself to Security, Dean was brought to the interview room where Sam was being kept. He left Tamera in the Arrivals Hall with a cardboard sign, to wait for the fourth member of their party.

~X~

Released by Security, Dean couldn't help but chuckle as he and Sam walked back to Arrivals.

"You honestly think I was gonna cut and run with some chick? Like I would freakin' ever. Dude, you KNOW I don't like flying. Reason why we DROVE over here in the first place. Remember?"

Sam exhaled. "Don't know WHAT to think, Dean. Only thing I know is, you are capable of ANY damn thing."

Dean snickered. "You mean like flying the coop with a delectable female like this gorgeous babe, huh?"

As he spoke he walked up behind a slim young woman in a figure-hugging, sky-blue sundress. Slipping his arm around her waist, he pecked her on the cheek. Sam gritted his teeth, seeing his guy getting up close with a chick that way. So Dean WAS here with a woman? Something inside him urged him to shove her on the floor and start a catfight right there in Arrivals.

The chick turned around, smiling wide. She wasn't who Sam expected, but she did look kind of familiar.

"You remember Tamera, Sam? The surfers?" Dean prompted. "She's come out to hang with us a few days."

Sam raised an eyebrow. So Dean wanted him to believe he had invited this girl to visit with them both? Kind of weird.

Tamera beamed up at him. "Just can't keep away from the ocean," she chuckled.

It was then that the new arrivals from the latest plane to touch down issued out into the Arrivals Hall. Tamera hooted and waved her cardboard sign in the air. Over her head, Sam glimpsed the familiar shape of someone wearing a shorts suit and struggling with a little trolley case. It was his best friend, Rachel.

"Rachel!" he shouted. "Over here!" called Dean. They all waved their arms like lunatics.

Grinning, she hurried over to them. "Hey, Sam," she said. "Hey, everyone. Can't believe I'm finally here in sunny California. Lead me to the ocean. I just wanna dive right in."

"Great," Sam thought. Finally someone with half a brain who could explain all this to him.

~X~

Outside, they put Rachel's things in the SUV. Sam still felt a little dazed by the turn of events.

"Tamera can ride with me," Dean insisted. "Rachel can ride with you, Sam. I got a bag for each of us already in the trunk so we can go straight on to the hotel."

So that was what Sam had seen Dean putting in the Impala that morning. Sneaky bastard.

When Sam and Rachel had gotten in the SUV, Dean leaned in the window and smiled.

"I'll go on ahead, Sammy. Cos I know the hotel I booked us into. You follow me. OK?"

"Don't worry, Dean. I'll make sure he doesn't get lost," joked Rachel.

As Sam pulled out onto the road behind Dean, Rachel noticed that his face was still set in a semi-disgruntled expression.

She giggled. "Never did like the wool pulled over your eyes, huh Sam?" she said. "Honey, you may as well let it go and enjoy yourself cos I sure mean too. Dean's put a lot of thought in this. I sure wish Dan was half as thoughtful. He's up in Canada right now enjoying his Labatt with his dentist friends and forgetting all about little old me."

"Oh, I doubt anyone could forget you, Rach," Sam commented, patting her knee.

"You know, when you Skyped me the other day I was afraid I'd give the game away," she chuckled. "Dean swore me to secrecy. He wanted this to be something special. He's such a sweetheart. Really landed on your feet there, Sam."

"Yeah?" Sam grumbled. "Sometimes he makes me doubt that."

"No, Sam, don't do that," Rachel objected. "I can see it in his eyes. The guy is crazy for you. He's just trying to do something that'll make you happy."

Sam shrugged. He had to admit that he had gotten it wrong this time. But, honestly, how was he supposed to tell between when Dean was being mischievous and being deceitful?

"Why can't he be more like regular guys? It's like being with a firecracker, Rach. He's beautiful but freakin' nerve-wracking at the same time."

Rachel laughed. "Regular? Like who? Dave Mann? Hell, Sam, you had regular and it didn't work out. You love this guy because he's the opposite of regular. Admit it. He's the spice in your latte."

Sam had to chuckle at that. "Yep, I gotta say he's a truckload of fun, on a good day. I guess he wouldn't be Dean if he stopped being a crazy jerk."

Rachel jabbed him with her elbow. "If you ever get tired of him, I'll take him off of your hands," she joshed.

"What about Dan?" demanded Sam. "You're engaged, right?"

"Dan is in Canada," Rachel responded impishly.

Up ahead, the Impala was pulling over into the parking lot of a little boutique hotel. Sam pulled in and parked up beside Dean's car.

"Pretty cool, huh?" commented Dean, climbing out of the Chevy.

Stepping down from his SUV, Sam had to concur. "Looks promising," he agreed.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Probably wind this up in another couple of chapters. :)


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Winding down to the end of the story now. The boys and girls arrive at their break hotel for a little fun.

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 14) by frostygossamer

* * *

It was what they call a boutique hotel. A genuine 30's entrance opened into a foyer stylishly clad in cool black and white marble. A super-smart forty-something woman in a crisp white shirt staffed the reception desk.

Yes, it did look promising. Sam reckoned Dean had certainly Googled himself up a winner.

Dean even volunteered to go sort out their booking, while Sam waited in the lobby with the two girls and their luggage. Standing there, it suddenly occurred to Sam that their group could have passed for two regular hetero couples. Accident? No wonder Dean was surprisingly easy about checking in.

A bellman appeared with a birdcage trolley and whisked their bags away. Dean returned from the desk grinning.

"Why don't we go freshen up and then come back down here for a drink before dinner?" he suggested cheerily, pointing out the bright, air-conditioned hotel bar right next to the reception area.

They took the elevator up to their room on the top floor. The bellhop was just unloading their stuff when they got there. Sam gave the guy a tip and he left.

The suite consisted of a master bedroom with a king-size bed for the boys, two single bedrooms with queen-sizes for the girls, an open-plan living area and a huge bathroom with a spa bathtub. Since they were on the top floor, they had wonderful ocean views.

"This could come in useful," Dean remarked to Sam, when they found the Jacuzzi.

Rachel winked at Tamera and faux-innocently suggested, "Listen. Why don't we girls pass on the drink and go have ourselves a walk to unwind. Could use some fresh sea air after the flight here."

"Yeah," agreed Tamera, catching on. "I know a great seafood place near the beach. We'll grab dinner there. Let you two guys have a little space."

"Ten minutes to work a little magic and we're outta here," Rachel added, as they disappeared in their rooms.

Sam flopped down on a white leather sofa and dialled Room Service, balancing a menu card on his knee.

Minutes later the girls were ready to go, hair up and heals on.

"Don't wait up," yelled Rachel over her shoulder, as they tottered giggling out the door.

"Yeah. Never know, we might get lucky," agreed Tamera.

Then they were gone leaving Sam and Dean alone, the sound of their laughter disappearing down the hall. When Sam put down the house phone, Dean was already filling the jacuzzi tub.

"We can eat in the tub," he said, with a cheeky smirk.

~X~

Sam eased himself into the big spa bathtub beside Dean and sighed, stretching his long arms around the edge of the tub and behind his partner's shoulders. Dean leaned his head back against Sam's arm with a contented smile.

"This is great," he said, his eyes falling closed.

"Awesome," Sam agreed, closing his eyes also and relaxing in the bubbling water.

After a couple minutes, Dean chuckled. "Was kinda worried you'd notice I'd charged this place."

"Yeah, you secretly booking yourself a suite at a romantic hideaway wouldn't have looked suspicious at all," commented Sam.

Dean turned and regarded him for a moment.

"You REALLY believe I would wanna cheat on you with some random chick?" he asked, suddenly serious.

Sam couldn't help but find the little crease between his eyebrows adorable.

He sighed. "Not the random chicks I worry about, baby. It's the special ones got me nervous."

Dean moved a little closer. "Sammy," he said softly. "Dude, YOU're my special one."

Something about the way that came out so sappy made Sam want to kiss Dean so badly. So he did. Dean purred and closed up against him.

"Wanna get all... frothy?" he asked, with a naughty glint in his green eyes.

Sam opened his mouth to say YES, but then he remembered. "Ordered Room Service-"

Right at that very moment, there was a knock on the suite's door and a waiter wheeled in a Room Service trolley. Hearing the jacuzzi running, the kid stopped by the bathroom door, politely pretending to avert his eyes, and announced their meal's arrival.

Sam dismissed him with a wave. "We'll catch you later," he promised.

When the waiter had gone, Dean climbed out the bathtub and examined the food trolley with appreciation. He filled a plate with a few choice morsels and laid it down beside the tub before sliding back in. Reaching across Sam's chest he selected a strawberry, dipped it in cream and scoffed it whole. Then he leaned over for another, dipped it and held it up to Sam's mouth.

"They're scrummy," he said encouragingly. "Mm-hmm!"

Sam bit into the inviting fruit, cream running down his chin onto his chest. Dean followed the cream with his tongue.

"Sammy," he growled huskily. "You taste good."

Getting into it, Sam helped his lover to another strawberry, which Dean sucked on in an outrageously provocative manner. Sam almost forgot to breathe. Smirking, Dean slipped a leg over Sam's to part them and reached down through the bubbles to fondle Sam's globes at the same time as he juggled the red berry on his tongue. He finished by champing down on the fruit and swallowing loudly. Sam bit his bottom lip.

"Lemme at you," he hissed.

"Nuh-uh," murmured Dean, rising to stand between his legs dripping. "You're gonna lay back and lemme do bad things to you."

And with that he abruptly pulled Sam's butt forward to the edge of the little jacuzzi bench, panicking him slightly for a tiny second. But Dean steadied him there and carefully lifted both his legs up, securing his ankles over his shoulders.

"Relax, Sammy," he murmured soothingly.

Then he reached over and picked up a particularly big strawberry.

"And what am I gonna do with you?" he asked the red fruit, before dropping his hand under the water and beginning to trace around the edge of Sam's hole with the slightly furry object.

After three or four circles and a couple dips inside, he lifted the berry to his lips. And ate it.

Sam shivered with a delicious mix of disgust and delight. Jeez, that was so hot!

Dean grinned wickedly. "Wanna try it with the celery?"

~X~

Tamera and Rachel were sitting in 'Joe's Crab Shack' idly toying with the last of their special crab dinner. They had walked some distance along the shore on bare feet, strappy shoes hanging from their hands. It was starting to get dark and coloured lights twinkled on the surface of the ocean. A refreshing breeze was blowing in off of the water.

Rachel chuckled. "You know, I met Sam my first day as a college freshman. Gorgeous guy. I thought, now that's someone I gotta get beside."

"Shame he turned out gay, huh?" Tamera snickered.

"Kinda," Rachel agreed. "Or not. Turned out to be a better study mate than any of the guys I dated. Always there when I needed support. No pressure."

"You love him a little, right?" Tamera guessed.

"Uh-huh," Rachel agreed. "So I was kinda worried for him when this thing with Dean seemed to not be working out. I saw how crazy he was about the guy."

"They seem to be OK now," Tamera commented. "I guess Dean is a bit of a handful. But what a handful, huh?"

Rachel snickered. "Ri-ight!" she agreed. "He's a complete babe. And so is Sam. They make a cute couple."

"Don't they," Tamera agreed. "And what about Dan, your dentist. You and him all roses and violins?"

Rachel laughed, pushing away her plate. "Dan's a sweetheart. He's no Sam Winchester but he's damn close, and I'm working on the rough edges."

Tamera howled. "Well, good luck with that," she said, toasting Rachel with her half empty wine glass.

Rachel topped her up and poured the last of their bottle of California's best in her own glass, downing it in one.

"Guess it's time we got back to the hotel," she remarked.

~X~

Sam and Dean had gotten out of the tub and repaired to their bedroom, where they lay sprawled on top of the covers, Dean on his back, Sam on his side, sharing a plate of ham and cheese slices garnished with grapes. Dean would roll the cheese and ham together and they would eat them one from each end. like 'The Lady' and 'The Tramp' ate their spaghetti. In between snacks Sam was trying see how many grapes he could balance on Dean's flat stomach.

"Quit that," Dean griped playfully, scattering them on the bed with the back of his hand. "Navel's filling up with freakin' grape juice."

"Mhm," growled Sam. "Lemme stick my tongue in there, baby, lick it real clean for ya."

But, before he could try, Dean grabbed him by the shoulders, rolled him over on to his back and started sucking on his right nipple. Time for yet another round. Dean's turn to take control. Sam threw his head back and groaned.

"You're lucky you got such a clever mouth, baby," he whispered. "Stress you caused me lately."

Dean paused from sucking.

"Wha-? Got YOURSELF in trouble today," he pointed out. "Hell, who starts acting out in an airport? Could've pressed charges on your ass."

Sam snorted. "This ONE time."

Dean exhaled and rested his head against Sam's chest.

"Hey, I don't go looking for trouble," he mumbled. "Follows me around, is all."

"Mr. Innocent," retorted Sam, without thinking.

To his surprise Dean gave a shuddering sigh.

"I admit I CAN feel the need to poke the freakin' tiger on occasion," he whispered.

Something in his small broken voice made Sam's heart throb with love for the guy.

"So now I'm a tiger?" he chuckled, pulling Dean closer.

Dean smiled sadly against his shoulder.

"It's just... Need to test boundaries sometimes, I guess. I mean, what exactly do we have here? Is this for always, no matter what?

Sam put his hand on Dean's face and lifted his head slightly to look him in his wet green eyes.

"No matter what," he confirmed solemnly.

Dean glanced away. He was really NOT going to cry.

"Cos, you know, I failed before. Failed as a husband. Let Jo down. Don't wanna fail you, Sammy. You're kinda my last hope."

Sam took a deep breath and shook his head. "Baby," he said. "Don't think that way."

Lifting himself up on his elbows, he repositioned himself against their pillows, while Dean sat up and rubbed the back of his head, feeling the tension return.

"I DO get it, you know," Sam whispered gently. "I get that it's not easy for you. You walked away from a conventional straight life to try something totally new. For ME. Don't think I don't appreciate that. Know it took guts."

Dean chuckled mirthlessly. "Guts?" he repeated. "It's not like anyone was tryna stop me."

"Your dad?" Sam suggested. That pretty much hit the nail.

Dean inhaled sharply and nodded. "Dad woulda been pissed," he commented.

Sam had heard a lot about John. Dean's dad had been a man's man. Dean had always felt John would never have accepted his son being anything other than straight as a die, like himself. John was a man of black and white opinions. That was how come Dean had suppressed his real sexuality for so many years.

"I doubt that," Sam said, slipping his arm around Dean's shoulders and pulling him back down onto the bed. "I guess he would have sounded off some at first. But he would have come around."

"Ya think?" Dean murmured doubtfully, against the big guy's chest. "Dad could be a horse's ass."

"I DO think, Dean," Sam insisted. "Because he loved you. He was never gonna walk away."

Sam felt Dean choke back a tiny sob. "He left," he whispered. "He got sick and he left."

Sam rubbed his lover's back soothingly. Dean rarely mentioned his feelings about losing his dad. John had raised Dean all by himself, and when he died Dean had been left alone. He had no one else. It had to have been hard.

"It's OK, Dean," he said. "Now you got me. And I'm not going anyplace."

Dean sighed and snuggled tighter against his partner, until they both drifted into a deep sleep.

~X~

Getting back to the hotel suite in the early hours, Rachel and Tamera let themselves in like sneak thieves, giggling and hissing at each other as they collided with various pieces of furniture in the dark. They peeked in the master bedroom and were rewarded by the sight of Dean and Sam curled up together in bed, like puppies in a basket.

Rachel snickered when Tamera dug her camera out of her purse and snapped a quick pic of the two of them. The flash caused the boys to stir irritably but neither woke. They simply cuddled together a little closer.

"Ah, sweet," Rachel whispered when Tamera showed her the camera's display.

"My new desktop wallpaper," Tamera commented with an evil smirk. "What? They left the door ajar."

The girls retired to their beds, tipsy and happy, only a couple hours before dawn.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Ah, feelings :') One last chapter to come I think.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Final chapter. I did try to upload this yesterday but for some reason the login kept timing out.

A/N: When I told my mum I was nipping off to write up the happy ending for my latest fic, she asked me, 'Why does the ending have to be happy?' This is the result.

* * *

Love Extra (Chapter 15) by frostygossamer

* * *

Dean was awoken early by the racket going on in the suite. He rolled over and was deeply disappointed to find he was alone in the bed.

"Aw, Sammy," he muttered, burying his face in his lover's pillow.

He had been so hoping to sleep late this morning, maybe get breakfast in bed. Where the heck had Sam gotten himself to when he needed a wake-up grope? Somewhere in the suite, doors were banging and people were singing. It was like a freakin' kids' sleepover had just woken up.

Eventually, Dean slid to the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor, easing himself into an upright position. He raked both hands through his hair and groaned. Staggering to his feet he pulled on a random pair of boxers, possibly his, possibly Sam's, he wasn't sure and he didn't care, and opened the door into the open plan area of the suite.

Rachel and Tamera, dressed in hotel bathrobes, were painting their toenails and stuffing themselves with toast on one of the leather couches, giggling like a couple excited teens. Looking around for Sam, Dean spotted him sitting at a little bistro set on the terrace with a tray of coffee and an untouched plate of danish pastries, fully dressed in jeans and white T-shirt.

Dean wandered onto the terrace, pausing for a second to lean over the balcony and admire the view. And what a view! Sam took the moment's opportunity to slip a small gift bag onto his knees under the table.

Dean yawned like a disreputable walrus, rubbing his belly and flopping down on a spindly chair beside Sam.

"How long you been up?" he demanded. "Coulda woken me."

"Had a few things to do," Sam answered guardedly. "Reckoned I'd let you get your beauty sleep, baby."

"Like I need beauty sleep," Dean retorted, doing his baby blue steel.

Sam exploded with laughter. He leaned over and ruffled his lover's sex hair.

"Want some coffee?" he asked, pouring Dean a cup before he could answer.

Dean took a sip and moaned loudly as the dark nectar slipped down his throat.

"Knock yourself out," Sam added, pushing the apple danishes toward him.

Dean grabbed one and stuffed it in his face with evident relish, like he hadn't eaten for weeks. He washed it down with another noisy gulp of java.

"So? What's the plan for today?" Sam wondered, chuckling at the exhibition before him.

Dean grinned happily. "Today," he answered. "We hit the surf."

~X~

They drove out to the surfer supply place where Tamera rented boards and the other stuff they needed. Then they picked up a few picnic items and headed for the beach.

The surf was looking good and Tamera was anxious to get in the water. The other three were enthusiastic but a little nervous. They selected a convenient area of the beach to set up their recliners and lay out their beach towels, Sam insisting on everyone applying a reliable waterproof sunscreen.

Tamera was no stranger to sunblock, whereas Rachel protested she WANTED to tan and insisted on a lower SPF. Dean was inclined to shrug off the whole sun protection business as unmanly, but Sam would have none of that.

"Not gonna let you burn that cute hide of yours," he insisted.

"No, Mom," Dean snarked.

But he knew there was no point in arguing dermatology with Sam and eventually submitted to be creamed, even volunteering to return the favour.

"Kinda surprised you'd wanna get handsy with another guy in a public place," Sam remarked wryly.

"Should I care what people think?" Dean retorted, pretending he hadn't glanced around for observers first.

Sam chuckled. "Like going on vacation with two chicks wasn't a cover. Figured you were over the 'beard' phase, Dean."

Dean shrugged and rubbed his chin.

"That beard was awesome," he maintained. "But if baby smooth skin's your thing I ain't gonna bitch about it." He slapped Sam on the butt. "OK, we're ready to roll."

Rachel elected to stay with their belongings and work on her suntan, while Tamera introduced the two boys to the rudiments of surfing. They spent a few hours learning to paddle their surfboards, how to catch waves and then 'pop up' into a standing position on their boards. Tamera also introduced them to a few mystifying surfing terms like 'duck diving' and 'turtle roll'.

Sam enjoyed it, although Dean seemed to be enjoying it more than he did. Sam thought it was probably because he felt a little top heavy on a board, whereas Dean's profile was way more streamlined. So, after a while, he made his way back up the beach to look for his best friend.

Rachel was laying on a recliner sipping a juice, half shaded by Tamera's beach parasol.

"Hi, Sam," she greeted him. "Having fun out there?"

She offered him a towel. Sam grinned, accepting the towel and rubbing dry his floppy hair.

"Sure," he agreed, draping the towel around his shoulders as he sat beside her. "It's exhilarating. And Dean seems to be in his element. He's like a freakin' fish in the water."

From where they were sitting, they had an excellent view of Dean and Tamera horsing around in the breakers.

"I'm really glad we came," he went on. "Dean deserved a few days off from being a full-time asshat."

Rachel snickered. "Yeah, but he's a beautiful asshat, right?"

Sam sighed and lay back, arms behind his head. "That's not the reason we're together, Rach. Although it doesn't hurt. Know it sounds kinda shop-worn but I feel like he's the part of me that was missing. When he's around I'm whole. When he's gone I fall apart."

Rachel smiled down at her friend. "You're good for each other," she said. "Anyone can see that."

"Just wish HE could see it," Sam commented, a little sadly.

Down at the shoreline, Dean had finally noticed that Sam wasn't around anymore and started inland looking for him. Rachel spotted him approaching and decided it was time she went for a dip.

"Think I'll go wet my swimsuit. See if Tamera's ready to eat yet," she said, getting up and elegantly stretching.

Sam nodded. "Sure," he murmured, closing his eyes. "Go wash the product out of your hair, why don't you. Wind-blown look suits you."

Rachel was still chuckling when she passed Dean halfway down the beach, high-fiving him as she went by.

Dean looked down at the drowsy six-foot-plus Sam, casting his shadow over his long body. Sam noticed the tiny drop in temperature and assumed it was Rachel come back.

"Forget something?" he asked, eyes still closed, not expecting a reply.

Wordlessly, Dean lay down on the recliner beside him and interlaced his fingers with Sam's. Sam soon realized it was a guy's hand he was holding and gave it a little squeeze.

"Been enjoying yourself?" he asked.

"Freakin' awesome!" Dean replied, with quiet enthusiasm.

The sun was high and hot as they lay there, shaded by Tamera's beach umbrella. Sam was already almost asleep. Dean lay listening to the sounds of the ocean waves breaking, the cries of seabirds and the happy noises of bathers running around on the sands. It was idyllic and Dean felt wonderfully at peace.

He closed his eyes...

Rachel and Tamera were down at the water's edge, and Tamera was concentrating on showing Rachel how best to paddle her board. They were smiling and laughing, not being too serious about it, just generally having fun.

So they didn't notice anything at first. Just the tide going out.

Then suddenly there was a scream. Tamera looked up and froze. Rachel followed her transfixed gaze to the horizon. And simply stared.

Hearing the scream, Dean sat bolt upright, initially confused. Was someone hurt?

Sam grumbled and sat up too, shaking off his drowsy daze, until his eyes focussed.

There was something wrong with the horizon and, for a moment, they couldn't tell what it was.

Then Sam breathed, "No. It can't be..."

"What?" asked Dean, pointlessly. He was staring straight at it.

"A... a tsu-," gasped Sam. "-nami," finished Dean.

Their eyes met for a split second, fear rising as others around them noticed the huge wall of water and started to yell and panic.

Almost the whole beach turned as one and frantically struggled to scrabble inland to higher ground. A few remained rooted to the spot, too stunned to move.

But it was already too late.

Sam grasped both Dean's hands tight, painfully tight, and whispered, "Together, baby. ALWAYS. See you on the other side."

Dean could only nod as Sam wrapped his long arms around his body, pulling him breathlessly close. Holding on was all that mattered.

And then it came.

The power of the undertow was so strong it dragged them in and it sucked at their clothes. But their grip on each other remained unbroken. Sam pressed his lips against Dean's, as the ocean stole their last breath and the cold darkness of the Pacific deep overwhelmed them.

They slipped away...

A despairing Dan found Rachel shivering at a rescue centre two days later.

Tamera, an amazingly strong swimmer, lived to retell the tale around countless beach barbecues.

The boys woke up together.

In a better place...

~X~

"HEY!"

Someone threw a beach ball onto Sam's stomach and he woke up with a start. An nervous-looking mother, with a hyperactive kid and a boisterous dog, snatched back the multicoloured sphere with a mumbled apology. Sam sat up and combed a hand through his unruly hair, as clarity returned to his sleep-addled mind.

It had been a dream. Thank God!

Dean sat up grumbling, "Jeez! You tryna cut off my circulation or what?" shaking the hand Sam had been crushing. "Holding hands in public is weird enough but..."

Rachel and Tamera came running back up the beach laughing, and demanded they open their picnic take-out. Sam still felt a little shaken but he complied, and they were soon tucking into deli subs and paper cups of wine.

"Boy, that ocean breeze sure gives me an appetite," commented Dean.

The girls giggled their agreement, but Sam had a thoughtful look on his face.

~X~

Later that evening, the boys were relaxing in a fashionable chinoise fusion restaurant where the lights were low and the tables intimate. Sam's choice. They had hardly spoken since their order arrived and Dean noticed that Sam was picking at his Asian spiced salmon dish apathetically.

"Food not good?" he asked. "Because this beef whatchamacallit is awesome."

Sam smiled and shook his head. "It's not the food. It's just... Something happened this afternoon, Dean. Made me think."

"Oh, yeah?" chuckled Dean. "That's your thinking face? Thought it was your burp face."

When the waiter came and took away their empty main course dishes, Sam took a tiny box out of his pocket and put it on the table between them. The box he had popped out early that morning to purchase.

Dean eyed it with suspicion.

"That better not be what it freakin' looks like," he commented dryly.

Sam ignored the remark. "Had a dream this afternoon," he began. "But it wasn't only a dream. It was my heart talking. And it was telling me, without one shadow of a doubt, I'd choose you over the rest of the world, Dean."

Dean frowned. This was all getting too sappy for his liking.

"Had a dream too," he countered.

Sam was interested. "About a freakin' tsunami destroying California?" he asked, eagerly.

Dean gave him a weird look. "Hell no," he snapped. "It was about Dad, kinda."

He lay back in his seat and sighed, gazing at his hands as he recalled.

"You and me were down on the beach laying on those freakin' recliners, and you were mashing my hand like you were tryna squeeze yourself an OJ."

"Sorry," Sam interrupted.

"Anyways, suddenly I was right back with Dad. My first day at school. Holding his hand so tight cos I was freakin' scared.

"And he said, 'Kiddo there's nothing to be afraid of. If ever you wind up in trouble, I'll always come get you. Cos I'm your dad.' And I trusted him and it was OK.

"Then I realized that's what YOU do. I mess up and you come get me, bail me out, rescue me, bring me home. I can trust you, Sam. I really can, and, Jeez, I really do."

When he finished his little story, Dean looked up and found Sam's eyes. Sam inhaled deeply and held his breath for a moment.

"Always," he breathed.

Sam pushed the little box closer to Dean and Dean opened it, stifling a snort when it revealed just what he was afraid it would. Two simple silver eternity rings.

"I'm gonna try hard not to bring up the subject of 'chick-flick moments' right now," he commented.

Sam chuckled. "A symbol. But sincerely meant," he said, taking the slightly larger ring from the box and slipping it on his finger. "I'm gonna wear mine. You don't have to. I won't bitch about it."

Dean hesitated for a moment before pulling the box toward him and taking out the slightly smaller ring. He hefted it for a second, noting how expensively heavy it was, before putting it on his finger.

"There," he said, grinning. "You a happy sonovabitch now?"

"Ecstatic," answered Sam.

The End

* * *

A/N: So I told my mum, 'Yes, it HAS to be a happy ending." Hoped you enjoyed it. :)


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